


Baby, I'm a Sunflower (Please Pick Me for Your Table)

by wearingsunlight98



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Crush, Awkward Finn (Star Wars), Coronavirus AU, Eventual Poe Dameron/Finn, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, Gay Poe Dameron, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, POV Finn (Star Wars), Poe Dameron Is A Flirt, Poe Dameron/Finn Fluff, Quarantine, Rey is a good bro, cuz Finn is a disaster, fortunately for Finn, he delights in making Finn squirm, like seriously, she's totally onto Finn's crush, social distancing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:41:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24317491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearingsunlight98/pseuds/wearingsunlight98
Summary: Finn has been living out a quiet existence in the wake of Covid, one involving puttering around the house seeking random entertainment in the form of his cat (the slightly condescending Calliope) and the consumption of way too many eggs (he has a baking addiction — he's aware). He's even gone so far as to starthandwashingtheir dishes, just to have something to do.What can he say? He's desperate.Enter the new cashier at Millennium Market (aka Poe Dameron, the Biggest Flirt on Earth), and suddenly Finn finds himself in possession of a giant crush and some burning embarrassment (the latter is Rey's fault, obviously). Throw in some family shenanigans, a blast from the past, and someextremelytooth-rotting fluff, and voilà! You've got yourself another Quarantine Fic.You're welcome.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 74
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I wrote a Coronavirus AU. But when you’re stuck inside and can’t go anywhere, this is what happens. Sue me.
> 
> Just kidding, I'm dirt poor, just leave me comments and kudos and nice things instead <3 This is my first multi-chapter fic EVER and I'm pretty excited about it, so I really hope y'all enjoy it! Not quite sure how often I'll be posting chapters yet, nor how long this'll end up being... I mean, it was supposed to be a oneshot and now it's almost 6,000 words long, so there you have it xD
> 
> Let me know what you guys think! Hope y'all are staying safe, healthy, and socially distant <3

“This whole quarantine thing is a bitch,” Finn grumbled. He was currently draped along the couch with one arm slung over his eyes, bored out of his mind. It wasn’t so much that he minded the lack of social interaction; he was just restless.

He was a man of action — idle days did not suit him well.  
  
Rey, on the other hand, had taken quite well to being stuck inside. She was quick to offer a solution as she adjusted herself in the armchair across from him. “Go to the grocery store.”

Finn gave her as unimpressed a look as he could muster. “That’s literally the exact opposite of what we’re supposed to be doing.”  
“Yes, but you’re always less grumpy afterwards.”

He gave his roommate another, more doubtful look. “What do you mean, ‘less grumpy’?”  
Rey smirked. “I mean less like a pissed-off snake and more like Calliope after a good belly rub.”  
Finn rolled his eyes.

As if on cue, the orange tabby at his feet rolled over, exposing her belly to anyone willing to rub it. Unfortunately for her, she was promptly ignored.

“Course I don’t know for sure _what_ it is about the grocery store that makes such a difference,” Rey continued, “but judging by the dopey smile with which you always come back, it’s probably to do with a guy.”

 _Ridiculous,_ Finn thought to himself. It absolutely had nothing to do with the ravishing new cashier with the stunning smile and the bedroom eyes.  
Nothing at all.

Refusing to look in Rey’s direction, Finn began picking at a loose thread on the back of the sofa. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
“Sure, darling,” she replied in a blasé tone as she returned her gaze to the book in her lap. “Whatever you say.”

“Don’t patronize me,” he grouched.  
“I’m sorry,” she placated, not sounding sorry at all. “I was serious, though, about the store; we need eggs.”  
“We just _got_ eggs.”  
“Yes and then you stress-baked for an entire afternoon and now we’re out again.”  
Finn gave her a flat look. “Fine.”

***

Finn’s plan was actually to just run across the street to the corner store to grab eggs, rather than walking the fifteen minutes it took to get to the hipster grocery store downtown. Yes, that was where the new cashier worked, but that brought with it a whole ‘nother set of anxieties, so Finn decided he’d pass, thank you very much.

However, much to his dismay (though, admittedly, not to his surprise), the corner store was out of eggs.  
As was the pharmacy a block over.  
And the gas station just down the street.

This all served as yet another example of how Coronavirus was continuing to wreak havoc on his simple existence — he couldn’t even get fucking _eggs_ anymore. So, in the end, he wound up at the grocery store anyway.

As he approached the front of the store, Finn became aware of an odd, burgeoning sensation in his stomach. After a few seconds’ thought, he determined that the sudden bursts were definitely _not_ butterflies...

They were rogue harpies.  
With machine guns and atomic bombs.  
  
And wasn’t that just an interesting combination?  
Greek mythology, meet modern warfare.

Then again, his cat was named after a Greek muse, so maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised (although, technically speaking, it was _Rey’s_ cat — he just got to pick the name).

 _Okay, focus,_ he chided himself. _Just breathe, act like a semi-normal being...don’t say anything stupid. He’s a cashier, for God’s sake. Chill out._

In his mind, Finn saw himself walk into the store with an unmistakable air of nonchalance — maybe even a little bit of swagger. Imaginary Finn moved through the shop with confidence, gathering the things he needed quickly and efficiently.  
  
What _actually_ happened was much different.

First of all, he tripped coming in the door. Then, after righting himself, he caught sight of what was happening _beyond_ the door (aka the aforementioned cashier kneading dough at the bread counter) and forthwith lost all capacity for cerebral activity of any kind.

His eyes flitted from the strength evident in the man’s fingers as they worked, to the way his forearms tensed and relaxed as he pushed and pulled at the dough.

 _This_ led to Disaster #2, wherein Finn’s well-paced and comprehensible inquiry (“Do you, by any chance, have any eggs left in stock?”) ended up coming out more like word-vomit.

“Doyouhaveanyeggsleft?”

The man ( _Poe,_ Finn reminded himself, catching sight of his nametag) flicked his eyes up, and he huffed an amused sort of laugh. “Um. Yeah?” He cleared his throat. “Yeah, right over there,” he answered more definitively, pointing to the cooler along the far wall.

“Oh, thank God,” Finn exhaled, sagging in relief against the counter. “You have no idea how hard it is to get eggs nowadays; this is the fourth store I’ve tried.”

Poe full-out laughed this time. “Yeah, I know. It’s crazy, isn’t it?”  
Finn gave him a small smile. “Nuts,” he agreed.

He pushed off the counter and walked over to the shelf that Poe had pointed out. It was mostly bare, save for half a dozen egg cartons and a small jug of milk.

Not knowing when his need to bake would next arise (nor how many more eggs it would require), Finn grabbed two of the egg cartons before making his way back over to the checkout.

As he approached the register, he suddenly recalled the way Rey had been coughing that morning — not necessarily a cause for concern, as she was completely fine otherwise, but he figured one couldn’t be too careful.

“Please tell me you also have hand sanitizer,” he requested, a shy smile ghosting his lips.  
Poe’s answering smile was more rueful. “Unfortunately, I just ran out. You could try Rose’s, down the street — she just restocked this morning.”

Finn nodded. “Cool, I’ll check it out. Thanks. Don’t suppose you have any toilet paper, either?”  
“Sorry, sweetheart. Fresh out.”  
Finn blinked. _Sweetheart?_ He didn't really know how to feel about that...

Well, okay. He did know how to feel about it, he just didn't really wanna deal with the implications that _came_ with that feeling.

Also, was his face melting? It felt like it was melting. “Uh. Right. No worries…thanks.”  
“My pleasure,” the man responded with a wink.

Finn fumbled for his groceries and turned to go, his pulse still on the fritz as he stumbled towards the door.

“Have a good one!” Poe called after him, smirking (not that Finn could see this — he was too busy trying not to brain himself on one of the product stands).  
“Uh, yep — yeah, thanks. You too.” _Dear God,_ he thought to himself; he reached for the door and rushed out.

***

Finn is still in a bit of a daze when he reaches his home block. His head feels like it’s shrouded in gauze, filmy and airy and soft. As he nears the house, he hears a nearly imperceptible voice in his mind suggest that maybe he’s being a tad dramatic.

But right on the heels of that come flashes of mahogany irises and lashes for miles (not to mention an _incredibly_ alluring, masculine voice) and Finn’s right back where he started.  
It’s embarrassing, but he also kind of doesn’t care…

What he _does_ care about, however, is the fact that he has apparently lost the ability to stay upright. He recalls tripping into the store; his inability to navigate the interior without bumping into anything; and finally, his uncoordinated exit.

This fact is further demonstrated when he trips on seemingly nothing and ends up staggering into the colossal puddle he’d been trying to avoid. Within seconds, the water soaks through his canvas shoes, turning his socks into cold, soggy sponges.

His brain registers something akin to fury beginning to churn, and yet all he can do is stare down at his sopping wet shoes and blink. Certain words begin to float across his mind: _Wet. Cold._ He flexed and wiggled his toes. _Gross?_

It was such a weird, borderline disgusting sensation, and yet he couldn’t stop repeating the motion. _Weird, weird, weird, cold, wet, GODDAMMIT, STUPID—_

In a moment, the fury is back, this time demanding a physical reaction. Finn let out a brief yell of frustration, then began tearing his shoes off. He chucked them as far down the block as he could and sequentially, lividly stripped his feet of the drenched socks — these, too, were catapulted as far as Finn could throw them.

He felt better after this brief outburst. The anger left him just as abruptly as it had appeared, and Finn took a deep breath before continuing down the sidewalk towards his front door.

***

“Finn.”  
A grunt.  
“Why are you sprawled on the floor like a dead body?”  
He mumbled something unintelligible into the carpet.

Calliope chose that moment to slink over from her spot beneath the armchair and began batting at Finn’s face with her paw.  
  
“Right, well if you’re done being dramatic, would you kindly drag your carcass up and off my floor, please?”  
Finn actually lifted his head this time. “It’s _our_ floor.”  
“Not when you’re acting like a child, it’s not.”  
“Also, the correct term is _splooting._ I’m _splooting_ on _our_ floor.”

There was a slight pause, then— “Hold on...weren’t you wearing socks earlier?”  
Damn Rey and her insane ability to pick out even the smallest, most insignificant details. Finn rolled over and blinked blearily up at her. “The puddle down the street demanded a sacrifice.”

Rey arched her brows. “A what now?” Out of curiosity, she threw a glance at the front door — his shoes were also missing. “And where are your _shoes?!_ ”

Finn heaved a sigh, then sat up fully. “I accidentally stepped in a puddle and my feet got soaked.”  
She poked the inside of her cheek with her tongue as she puzzled over his words.

“‘Kay, but where _are_ they? Why are they not still on your feet, or in your hand, or making a mess by the door?”  
“Because I got upset.”  
“And?”

Finn did not like where this line of questioning was going. “And I may or may not have had a bit of a meltdown...wherein I threw them...down the street…” He trailed off sheepishly and began to pluck non-existent lint from his pants.

Rey’s eyebrows shot skyward a second time, and she made her way over to the bay window and peered outside. Lo and behold, there were the offending articles, strewn along the sidewalk just below.

 _I live with a toddler,_ she thought to herself, then spoke aloud: “Dare I ask from whence this frustration came?”  
Finn sucked in his cheeks. She was gonna find out one way or the other; best to just get it over with now.

“Well, I couldn’t find any eggs. Which meant I had to go to the grocery store downtown. Which meant seeing Poe. And because I’m me, I ended up embarrassing myself profusely.”  
Rey pursed her lips, trying to keep her smile in check. “I see. And the puddle?”  
“The puddle was just the last straw.”

She was quiet again, seeming to mull over whatever words were floating around her head, and Finn was struck with a sudden sense of fear. _Please don’t ask, please don’t ask, please don—_

“And pray tell, who is this Poe?”  
She was smirking now. Finn’s cheeks flamed; he said nothing.  
“Fine. Don’t tell me. But know this: you’re being dramatic, and probably it’s all fine.”

Finn scowled in disbelief. “Or, _probably,_ it’s not fine and he thinks I’m a complete fool.”  
“Yes, you’re right,” she nodded in mock seriousness, humoring him. “That’s far more likely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter! I'll probably post the second in the next few days or so... comments and kudos down below if you feel like it, they're much appreciated :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More grocery store shenanigans!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, they'll be branching out from the store setting soon, but they still don't know each other super well yet, so be patient ;)

“You hungry?” Rey called out as she walked into the kitchen a few days later, dropping her keys in the change bowl on her way past it.  
“I could eat,” Finn responded from his spot on the floor.

He was currently strategically located on the far side of the (rather small) living room, so as to soak up as much of the sunlight streaming through the window as possible. His eyes were shut, and his chest slowly rose and fell with each breath.

Calliope was curled up next to him, her head tucked into the crook of his neck with his face buried in her silky fur. The air around them felt dreamy; he was loath to move at all.

But it was nearing dinner time, so he wasn’t surprised at Rey’s sudden appearance on the scene.

He cracked his eyes open just in time to see her pull the hair binder off her wrist and sweep her hair into a low bun, wisps falling out almost immediately to frame her face. She then made her way over to the faucet to wash her hands.  
  
“Don’t forget to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ twice,” Finn piped up, hearing the water as it gushed out into the sink.  
Rey rolled her eyes. “Yes, thank you, Dr. Mike,” she answered sarcastically, referencing the famous YouTuber Finn followed religiously.

“Hey, mock me all you want, but Coronavirus don’t mess around.”  
"True." She shook the excess water from her hands, then dried them off on the towel hanging near her hip. “Right, what would you like?”

Finn sat up, dislodging Calliope in the process and causing her to meow in protest. “What do we have?”  
“Uhm…welllll…” She trailed off, turning to peruse the pantry.  
“Grilled cheese?” he suggested.  
“We’re out of bread,” she countered.  
“Alright, ummm...scrambled eggs?”  
“Don’t have any eggs.”  
“ _Again?_ ”

Rey looked pointedly at the various containers of baked goods lining the counter. Finn blinked, then moved on. “How ‘bout pancakes?”  
“Did you not hear me when I said ‘no eggs’?”  
“Okay, _cereal?_ ”  
Rey sucked a breath in through her teeth as she opened the fridge. “Yeah, no milk.” A pause, then, “We’re also out of butter.”  
“ _Oh my God,_ ” Finn cried in disbelief.

“Maybe I should’ve checked the kitchen before suggesting dinner.”  
“You think?” Finn shot back, his voice steeped in sarcasm.  
“Hey, listen here, Snippy: there are two people in this house," she replied, holding up two fingers. "You are just as capable of restocking as I am.”  
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Finn waved her off as he hauled himself to his feet and headed for the door, pausing on his way to brush a kiss against her forehead. He tugged his shoes on, grabbed his jacket, and with a “back in a bit!” thrown over his shoulder, walked out into the sunshine.

***

“Just the milk?”  
“Yeah. Thanks.”  
“Sure.” An easy grin.  
There’s a pause, during which Poe rings up the numbers while Finn’s brain flatlines; the man is _devastating._

Finn gets a niggling feeling in the back of his mind ( _Is it just the milk? I feel like I’m forgetting something…_ ), but the thought quickly disappears at the sight of Poe carding a hand through his rebellious curls; it’s incredibly distracting.

But let’s be honest here — Finn had been distracted the second he’d walked into the store. He couldn’t stop looking at him, drinking him in. Finn liked to think he wasn’t a shallow person; and he wasn’t, really. But there was something about the man in front of him that had Finn bewitched from head to toe.

“That'll be $4.23,” Poe says, and Finn has to derail his train of _mouthwatering, gorgeous, dear God help me_ and remind himself that the man in front of him, while absolutely breathtaking, did not deserve to be objectified. “Also, sweet or salty?”

Finn blinks, and his brow furrows. “Sorry?”  
“Sweet or salty?”  
“Uh…sweet?”  
“You got any allergies?”  
“Um. No.”  
“Great.” The grin returns (although maybe it never left) as Poe grabs an Almond Joy from the candy rack and tosses it on the counter.

Finn quirks an eyebrow. “You know nobody actually eats those, right?”  
“The hell are you talking about?”  
“I’m talking about the fact that on every Halloween ever, nobody wants to trade for an Almond Joy.”

Finn is pretty sure there are fireworks going off in Poe’s eyes as he queries, “Have you ever tried one?”  
“Well, no, but—”  
“Then try it. Trust me.”  
Finn purses his lips, but finally agrees. "Alright.”

Poe grins one more time, then slides the milk and the candy bar closer to Finn. “Have a good one.”  
“Uh, yeah,” Finn answers awkwardly, scratching his brow bone, unable to come up with literally anything else. “Yeah, you too.”

***

When he gets home, he immediately goes to the fridge and digs out a bottle of hard cider. He’s in the middle of trying to suss out the meaning of the Almond Joy (who gives random customers free candy bars???) when he realizes that Rey has also entered the kitchen and is giving him a strange look.

“What?”  
“Just milk?” she inquires bemusedly, nodding at the gallon sweating on the counter. “What about the rest of it?”  
“What do you mean?”  
Her eyes narrow in disbelief, as if she’s finding it difficult to believe that he really has no clue. “I mean the butter, the eggs, the bread...none of that rings a bell?”

Finn wants to string himself as he realizes he’d neglected to acquire the rest of the groceries. “Dammit,” he mutters, feeling exceptionally stupid. “Knew I was forgetting something…”  
Rey is trying really hard not to laugh; she bites her lip, not quite muffling the sound, and Finn growls at her. “Shut up.”

Her eyes shift to the Almond Joy lying in the middle of the counter. “You know nobody eats those, right?”  
“Try telling that to Poe.”  
“Ah yes, your new beau,” she says airily.  
Finn rolls his eyes, mutters a quick “fuck you,” and storms out the door.

***

“You’re back.”  
“Yeah...I forgot a few things.” Finn rubbed the back of his neck, feeling awkward and not sure if he should contribute more to the conversation, or if he should just go about getting the rest of the groceries.  
  
Poe huffed a small laugh. “Anything I can help with?”  
 _I mean,_ thought Finn, _I don’t really need help grabbing butter and eggs…_ Then his eyes landed on the racks of baked goods behind the counter, and his brain pinged with an idea. “Actually, yeah, I uh...I need some bread.”

Which, he really did. Sure, Rey probably hadn’t meant the beautiful (read also: pricier) crusted artisan loaves that seemed to be Poe’s specialty...but hey, it was probably healthier than Wonder Bread, right?

Besides, Finn had been meaning to start buying better quality food anyway; no time to start like the present.

Poe grinned. “No problem, what kind?”  
Finn bit his lip in thought. “I need sandwich bread and...and whatever your favorite is,” he answered, smiling a bit.  
Poe’s own smile softened at the corners. “You got it.”

The man moved to retrieve the requested loaves — a simple rosemary bread and his favorite: cranberry walnut. As he did, Finn’s eyes fell on a tray of flaky cinnamon rolls — perfectly golden, with thick veins of cinnamon running along each swirl and powdered sugar dusted over the tops.

He totally needed some of those.

“And uh,” he started, momentarily distracted by the sight of Poe’s hand spanning one of the loaves. His fingers were flexed around the broad surface of the bread, tendons pushing at the skin on the back of his hand.

At the sound of Finn’s voice, Poe had turned slightly to give his attention. Picking up on the fact that, by any normal conversation standards, Finn should’ve continued talking by now, he quirked a brow. “Yes?” he prompted good-naturedly, that ever-present smile tugging at his mouth again.

Finn blinked, coming back to himself, and cleared his throat. “Sorry, uh...could you throw in some cinnamon rolls, too?”  
Another grin — always that confident, smirky grin. “No problem.”

_Butter. Eggs._ Finn reminded himself, walking towards the coolers at the back of the store. He shook his head, trying to get rid of the lingering fog that had snaked around his brain. This whole thing was getting a little too rom-com-y for him, and that was saying something — Finn was man enough to admit that those things made him cry just as much as the next person.

But even the King of Sap had his limits, and mooning around the store like some lovesick fool after having a pretty smile flashed in his direction was getting to be a bit much.

He finally made it back to the register, a pack of butter and carton of eggs in hand, where Poe had just finished bagging up his bread and cinnamon rolls. As the man rang up the remaining items, Finn whipped out his mental calculator and kept pace, making sure the total was accurate.

After a handful of bad experiences in various marketplaces, Finn had learned to pay attention to whomever was charging him money (he’d had one pulled over on him a few too many times and, quite frankly, it was embarrassing). Turns out, he was actually pretty damn good at it, too.  
  
Which is why he’s confused when Poe finally says, “That’ll be $17.89.”  
  
Finn’s eyebrows scrunched as he ran through his mental tally again. _That’s not right — there’s about twelve dollars missing._  
He told the cashier as much, and Poe chuckled. “Wow. Pretty good at keeping track, aren’t you?”  
Finn shrugged. “I’ve learned some lessons. Was I right?”

Poe also shrugged. “Yeah, you were. But I did that on purpose — gave you the cinnamon rolls for free.”  
Finn’s mouth gaped. “You- um. What?”

His confusion was met by a laugh, Poe’s mouth stretching wide to accommodate it. “I said the cinnamon rolls are free,” he answered, ivory teeth still flashing as he huffed one last laugh.

Finn was still confused. “But- why? I mean, that’s...a decent amount of money.”  
“Because my boss isn't here and I feel like it,” came the reply.  
“Oh.” Finn blinked.  
Poe smirked. “You got a problem with that, doll?”  
 _  
Doll._ Finn's eyes widened; he wanted to die. “N-no. No, I don't. Um, thank you.” _Sweet Jesus, could this get more embarrassing?_  
The cashier gave a fond smile, reflected in his kind eyes and gentle tone. “You’re welcome.”

***

“Finn!” yelled Rey, her voice floating from the kitchen up the stairs to where Finn was standing in the bathroom.  
“Yeah?” he hollered back.  
“I sent you out for butter, eggs, and bread.”  
“So?”  
“So why are there cinnamon rolls?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halloween Pro Tip: DECIDE YOU LIKE ALMOND JOYS. You know the kid who’s always trying to trade for a Snickers bar, except they never get one cuz no one ever wants to give theirs away? Well, news flash: Finn was right. For some reason, pretty much NO ONE likes Almond Joys. Which means every time you wanna trade for one? You’ll get it. Guaranteed. You’re welcome.
> 
> Also, if any of you are interested in checking out Finn's favorite YouTuber, I put the link down below! His videos are awesome but he’s also got a giant, fluffy dog named Bear — so really, there’s all you need to know right there.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC0QHWhjbe5fGJEPz3sVb6nw
> 
> Hope y’all are doing alright in these crazy days! Like my boy Dr. Mike says, “stay happy, and healthy!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I know it's only been like 2 or 3 days since I've updated, but I feel like it's been forever, lol.  
> 
> 
> Quick note: I had someone recommend adjusting the spacing of my paragraphs, so I have done just that! Hopefully this'll make things easier to read, especially on the mobile site. I always, always appreciate feedback (when given kindly), so if y'all have any other ideas or tips or anything, just let me know :)  
> 
> 
> And now, Chapter 3! Enjoy! <3

“I like your shirt.”  
  
Finn blinked a week later, looking down at his _My Hero Academia_ merch in surprise. He knew it wasn't always the case, but in Finn's experience? Anime didn't really take up much room in pop culture. The only people he knew who were into anime were nerds, and the man in front of him seemed too heart-breakingly gorgeous to be one of them.

“You do?” he asked in disbelief.  
“Yeah, I do! S’a good show.”  
Finn’s smile was cautious. “Yeah…thanks.” He paused, then went on. “Gotta be honest, kinda surprised you know what it is.”

Poe’s look turned nostalgic. “Yeah, my dad and I used to watch it every weekend. I don’t blame you, though,” he continued, shrugging. “Doesn’t seem to be that popular of a show around here.”  
“So I’ve gathered. Have you read the books?”  
  
Finn was pretty sure his eyes were turning to hearts as Poe raked a hand through his copious curls. “Actually no, I haven’t,” he responded, looking a little embarrassed. “I, um. Wasn’t much of a reader growing up — super dyslexic. Just wound up frustrated most of the time.”

“Ah,” Finn answered understandingly. “Is that still the case?”  
“Not really, I mean I obviously still have it, but I’ve learned how to manage it. And comics don’t have a ton of words anyway. But I was just so ashamed as a kid that I kind of wrote off reading altogether.”

Finn swallowed, hesitating. _Should I offer to let him read mine?_ It wasn't like he was asking him out on a date — they were just comics.

_But is it weird if we're not friends?_

Finn chewed on his lip, weighing the risks. _Screw it,_ he thought. “Well, uh,” — he cleared his throat — “if you ever find yourself wishing you could read them…” He trailed off, shrugging nervously. “I mean. You could borrow mine. God knows I’ve read ‘em enough times.”

Poe’s smile was radiant. “Yeah? You sure?”  
Finn nodded. “Yeah, uh. I’ll just, bring the first one by sometime.”  
“Alright, cool. Thanks.”  
Finn paused again, debated. _I mean...I could invite him over? Is that weird?_

As he agonized, he was distantly aware of the increasingly awkward silence that had descended on them.  
_Just ask him. No big deal.  
_He squared his shoulders. “Hey, uh...I mean. You could also swing by sometime? Like after work or something, if you want.”

Poe’s mouth twitched with another smile. “Yeah?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Okay. I’m almost finished here, Jess’ll be here soon to take over...like fifteen minutes?”  
“Oh, yeah, of course...no problem.”

Finn cleared his throat once more in an attempt to curb his nervous rambling. He hadn’t been expecting a yes...

What the hell was he supposed to do now?

***

Finn wasn’t exactly sure how he survived the semi-awkwardness that was waiting for Poe’s shift to end, but somehow he did, and now the man was in his house.  
  
Would wonders never cease?

As Poe stood in Finn’s entryway, waiting for him to set his groceries down, there was a sudden brush against his leg. Looking down, he found an orange tabby weaving between his legs.

“That’s Calliope,” Finn imparted, as Poe reached down to scratch behind the feline’s ear. “She’s constantly parading around the house as if she’s better than everyone. Which. Not gonna lie, sometimes she is,” he admitted, scratching behind his own ear.  
  
Poe chuckled as he straightened again. “I find that hard to believe.”  
“Why’s that?” Finn asked, walking further into the house. He missed Poe’s cheeks turning slightly pink, too focused on scanning the book shelf in the living room for the comic he wanted.

“Well...maybe just that she’s better than you,” the cashier clarified, leaning casually against the dining table, smirking.  
Finn turned and blinked. “Oh. Uh...thanks?”  
Poe laughed. “I just meant, you know. You’re fun to be around.”

Finn bit his lip, trying to think of something else to say, something witty, but to no avail.  
Their gazes locked on each other and, despite the cringe-worthy clichéness of it all, Finn found himself wishing that he could swim in those bottomless eyes forever.

Silence stretched on, clumsy and nervous and warm and hopeful—

And then Rey was bursting through the front door, halting at the sight in her living room as Poe blinked back to awareness and Finn scrambled to regain his cool.

“So, uh— are you—”  
“Yeah, I should, uh— I should probably go,” Poe announced, making a show of patting his pockets, checking to see that he had everything (as if he had anything to check _for_ ).

Meanwhile, Finn (remembering why Poe had come over in the first place) snatched the slightly-worn comic from its spot on the shelf and thrust it forward. “Here, don’t forget this.”  
“Oh! Right,” the other responded, taking the proffered item. “Thanks again.”  
“Don’t mention it.”

By this point, Rey had recovered from her brief paralysis and was now wearing a wicked grin. Taking a step forward, she said to Poe, “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met.”

Finn was frantically trying to find a way out of this, but—  
_Ah, shit. They’re shaking hands._

“Poe Dameron,” Poe was saying, smiling politely as he gave Rey’s hand a firm shake.  
“Rey Skywalker,” she returned, sizing him up. “I take it my roommate is being a semi-decent host for once, considering you’re still here.”

Finn sputtered in outrage, glaring at his betrayer. “I’m a good host!”  
“Finn, darling, hiding in the bathroom the second you hear the doorbell ring is not synonymous with being a good host.”

Alright, so he wasn’t the most social being on Earth. And yes, he did wittingly make his way to the bathroom the second he heard the doorbell ring — but it wasn’t ‘cause he was a bad host. He sucked at small talk; if anything, he was being a _good_ host by not subjecting his guests to such awkwardness and instead allowing the more eloquent of the two housemates to welcome them.

Besides, it’s not like he stayed in the bathroom all night. He always came out once he was sure the main conversation had started rolling — so like, ten minutes. Fifteen, at most.

“I don’t _hide._ It’s not my fault that people show up just as I’m heading into the bathroom.”  
Rey looks like she’s about to retort, but Poe beats her to it. “You’re probably not missing much. The first ten minutes are always small talk.”  
  
“ _Thank you!_ ” Finn exclaims. _Finally, someone who gets it,_ he thinks to himself.  
“Not that it really matters,” Poe went on. “You’re too sweet for anyone to stay mad at you.”

Finn chokes. His lungs are seizing and his face is burning and Rey is snorting so hard, Finn’s distantly afraid that her brain’ll come out through her nose.  
  
He coughs, trying to get rid of whatever the hell is lodged in his throat. Poe squeezes his shoulder, smirking softly as he says, “You okay, doll?”  
Finn nods, lets out another weak cough. “Yeah, I’m alright,” he affirms, his voice slightly hoarse.

“What a curious shade of red that is,” Rey says in mock fascination, poking at his cheek.  
“Oh, fuck off, Rey!” He swings at her and misses as she runs off to the kitchen in a fit of giggles.

Poe chuckles as he makes his way to the door and Finn follows, stopping just short of the entryway. “Sorry about that,” he says, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “She’s...kind of embarrassing.”  
Poe just smiles. “She’s your friend; pretty sure it’s her job.”  
“Actually, she’s my sister.”

Poe blinks, and Finn can tell he’s trying to figure that one out. He doesn’t mind the topic at all — the Skywalkers have given him everything, and he has no problem telling people about how wonderful they are.

But he also knows that family origins are sometimes a touchy subject for others, so he understands why people get hesitant and awkward when the topic surfaces.

Which is why, after a few seconds, he just chuckles and says, “I’m adopted. Rey and I both are.”

“Ah,” Poe says, nodding in understanding. “That’s cool.” He gives Finn a kind smile.  
“Well, depends on how you look at it...the Skywalkers are great people, so yeah, living with them was cool. Growing up with Rey, though? Less cool.”

“Take it back!” Rey yelled from the kitchen.  
“Or what?” he challenged, grinning.  
“I’ll call your mother!”  
Finn snorts. “She loves me.”  
Rey pokes her head out of the kitchen with a menacing smile. “Fine. I’ll call your _grand_ mother.”

Now _that_ was an actual threat. Leia was fierce, don’t get me wrong, but she’d always had a soft spot for Finn. Padmé, on the other hand, did not — Finn had learned that the hard way, on a very memorable camping trip one summer when he was younger.

He narrowed his eyes. “Fine. Jerk.”  
“I think that’s my cue,” Poe says, laughing as he pulls the door open. “See you around?”  
“Uh yeah, yeah definitely,” Finn replies, back to being the eloquent conversationalist that he is ( _not_ ).  
“Sweet. Thanks again for the comic!” Then the man walks out the door, pulling it shut behind him.

Turning to head back into the kitchen, Finn was met by the exact thing he had been hoping to avoid — Rey, looking like the cat that got the canary as her face stretched in a dangerous grin.

“What” — Finn groaned as she spoke — “was _that_?”  
“It was nothing—”  
“It was not.”  
“He just came over to borrow something—”  
“Dear God, I nearly _choked_ coming through that door—”  
“Would you _stop_ , _nothing_ happened—”  
“—the tension was _so_ _thick_.”  
“ _REY!_ ” Finn wailed, begging her to stop.

She did, much to Finn’s surprise, and gave him a satisfied smirk. “Relax, darling, I’m just teasing you,” she replied easily, walking into the kitchen. “But seriously, what was the comic about?”

Finn sighed, but figured the question was harmless enough — he should’ve known better. “We were talking about _My Hero_ and Poe said he’d only seen the cartoon, so I told him I’d lend him my comics if he wanted to read them.”

“Oh, that’s sweet,” Rey answered, pulling a Coke out of the fridge. “Now you can add ‘obscure Japanese cartoons’ to your list of Things to Flirt Over While Standing at the Register.”

Finn glared. “Hilarious.”  
She gave him a smug smile. “Yes, I am. Now,” she continued, taking a sip of her drink. “Pizza or chicken tikka?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Finn and Rey are adoptive siblings. Sorry if you hate it but canon Finn has no last name, so obviously that had to be remedied and let's be honest, the only clear option is Skywalker.  
> 
> 
> And for those of you who hate the idea of Jedi Finn, don’t worry — they don’t exist in this fic, so it’s a non-issue.  
> 
> 
> Also, I realize that _maybe_ Finn shouldn't have invited Poe over because of social distancing, but I didn't feel like re-writing the scene so we're just gonna pretend it's fine. But seriously! Social distancing is important, so everyone please be safe and keep others safe! <3


	4. UPDATE

Hello lovely people!! <3

Sorry it’s been a few days since I've posted. I’ve been at war with my migraines for the past several days and up until yesterday they were pretty much kicking my ass xD But fear not, I have returned and I’m bringing the feels with me! I haven't quite finished Chapter 4 yet, so it'll probably be a few more days until I'm ready to post. BUT STICK AROUND AND STAY TUNED, I'm not quitting on this fic, I promise <3 FinnPoe will return by the end of the week :)

Hope y'all are safe and healthy <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn and Rey go over to Han and Leia’s for a little family dinner, and Finn has some bonding time with his mama <3  
> Also feat. Skywalker Sibling Shenanigans and Poe's complete lack of grammatical structure when it comes to texting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO LOVELY PEOPLE!!! So good to be back in the saddle, thank you all for your patience and encouraging comments!! My migraines are very unpredictable but they've decided to chill out for the time being, so it’s back to business as usual. I hope this chapter makes it worth the wait! <3  
> Also, quick note: I made a mistake in the last chapter. While talking to my brother the other day, he reminded me that technically the correct term for the comic Finn lent Poe is _manga_ , while the animation style (like for TV series/films) is called _anime._ So that was my bad, hope I didn't offend anyone! <3

“Hey, uh. Think I could get your number?” Poe queries the next time Finn shows up for groceries.

The latter had just finished gathering his bags, but upon hearing the man’s question, he freezes. “Um. You want my number?”

Poe’s smile is sharp, per usual (or at least, he thinks it is — there's a mask in his way, dammit, so he's not sure, but the glimmer in his eyes is pretty telling). “Well, you lent me your manga, so logically the next step is to exchange numbers.”

Finn’s got a stupid look on his face, he knows he does, but he’s just so confused right now. No one has ever asked for his number…or at least, nobody who mattered.

And Poe? Poe matters.

Oh God, does he matter.

“Uh yeah, that’s cool.”  
“You don’t seem convinced.” Poe chuckles, but it’s slightly nervous and unsure.  
Finn decides that he much prefers the bold confidence that constitutes Poe’s usual vibe.

He clears his throat. “Yeah no, sorry, totally cool! I’m just surprised is all.”  
“That I asked for your number?”  
“Yeah, I mean...no one’s ever done that before.”

Poe’s eyebrows shoot up. “I find that very hard to believe.”  
A surprised, disbelieving sound forces its way out of Finn’s mouth. “You do?” he asks incredulously.

The cashier drags glittering eyes over Finn’s person before resuming eye contact. “Don’t sell yourself short, sweetheart.”

Finn laughs, loud and unfettered. “Wow, um…alright. Thanks.” He waits for Poe to open his contacts, then rattles off his number. “Just shoot me a text with your name, so I know it’s you.”

Ten seconds later, his phone buzzes in his pocket.

> **From Unknown:**
> 
> prince fucking charming ;)

Finn snorts, shaking his head as he saves the number. “You’re ridiculous.”  
Poe gives him a smug look. “Yeah, but you love it.”  
Finn lets out another, softer laugh as he says, “Alright, well…I better get going.”  
“Have a good one,” Poe says, and winks.

***

Three days later…

> ******From Poe:**
> 
> so i finished the manga and it reminded me of how good the anime is so i started rewatching it
> 
> totally rekindled my love for kiribaku forgot how much i love them
> 
> **To Poe:**
> 
> RIGHT
> 
> **From Poe:**
> 
> it’s so obvious too, like right from the beginning the chemistry is so there
> 
> **To Poe:**
> 
> Ikr?
> 
> I just love how chill Kirishima is. Like Bakugo will go all batshit or whatever and Kirishima’s just like “bro. You’re fine, chill.”
> 
> Like he’s the only one who can get Bakugo to sort of calm down?
> 
> **From Poe:**
> 
> yeah it’s really sweet how kiri’s the only one who can not only tolerate bakugo but who also is like, the only one bakugo will let be around him ya know?
> 
> like he’s all prickly and kind of a jerk to everyone and then kirishima shows up and he’s like alright you’re cool i guess
> 
> **To Poe:**
> 
> Exactly!
> 
> Bro I will go down with this ship, it’s so adorable.
> 
> **From Poe:**
> 
> right?
> 
> how do you feel about midoriya and todoroki?
> 
> **To Poe:**
> 
> I’m here for it, 100%.
> 
> **From Poe:**
> 
> yeah same
> 
> **To Poe:**
> 
> Ok, here’s the big one…
> 
> Midoriya and Bakugo?
> 
> **From Poe:**
> 
> NOPE
> 
> NO WAY
> 
> KIRIBAKU ALL THE WAY
> 
> I WILL NOT ACCEPT ANYTHING ELSE
> 
> **To Poe:**
> 
> Lolol ok good. We can be friends.

***

God forbid Poe find out, but Almond Joys had quickly become an essential grocery in the Skywalker household — or at least, they had for Finn. Rey maintained that they were the most vile candy bar on earth, and that the only reason Finn ate them was ‘cause his torch for Poe was so hot it had melted his taste buds.

Finn paid her no mind, just ripped the wrappers off three mini Almond Joys and shoved them all in his mouth so he wouldn’t have to answer her.

But again, this all had to be kept secret, because if Poe found out that Finn was now a die-hard Almond Joy fan, he’d never hear the end of it.  
This led to Finn having to purchase his new vice at the corner store, rather than his new favorite grocery store.

“You’re pathetic,” said Rey, watching Finn from her perch atop the counter as he stashed his newly acquired candy bars in the cupboard.  
“Shut up, they make me happy.”  
“ _They_ or _he?_ ”

Finn turned up the volume on the Bluetooth speaker, and the sounds of Bob Dylan filled the small space.  
She rolled her eyes. “You’re a child.”  
“Sorry what?” Finn mocked, raising his voice. “I can’t hear you over the sound of America’s most underrated lyricist.”

She gave him the finger, then hopped off the counter and sauntered out of the kitchen; Finn reached for another candy bar.

***

“ _In order for me to give you comprehensive advice on self-care, we have to talk about both the mind AND body. In fact, I don’t like that they’re separate words; it should be mind-body, ‘cause they’re so intimately connected_ —”

“How’s Dr. Mike today?” Rey asked, coming into the living room and dropping onto the couch next to Finn.  
“Hot,” he answered, somewhat distractedly.  
Rey rested her chin on his shoulder. “Oh! My God. He certainly is.”

The man was a vision 24/7 (just one of those people who was unfairly beautiful), but there was something about his glasses that day that seemed particularly hotter than usual.

“Can you imagine having him as your doctor—”  
“Oh, dear Lord, no, my ovaries couldn’t handle it. I’d probably just give birth on the spot.”

Finn scrunched up his nose. “Okay, I did not need to hear that.”  
Rey fixed him with a serious look. “Finn. Childbirth is a beautiful thing—”  
“OKAY, STOP—”  
“—it is one of life’s many miracles—”  
“That doesn’t mean we have to talk about it—”

He’s saved from further torment by the sound of a phone ringing.

It’s Rey’s — it’s their mother.

“Ha-llo?” Pause. “Oo, that sounds lovely, one sec.” She pressed the phone to her chest and turned to Finn. “Mother wants to know if we’d like to come over for dinner.”  
“What’s the occasion?” Finn asks.

As if he needed one.

“Apparently, there was a sale on steak and father took advantage.”  
“Oh, okay. That sounds good.”  
“Finn says he can think of nothing he’d love more,” Rey relayed to their mother. Finn snorted at the exaggeration; there was another pause. “Six thirty, that sounds great…okay! See you soon…love you too, bye.”

She hung up and turned back to Finn. “I love free food.”  
He smiled. “Me, too.”  
“It’s my favorite.”  
“Same.”  
“You have something on your face.”  
“What—”  
“Oh wait, it’s your nose.” Rey chortled, doubling over.

Finn gave her a flat look. “You’re stupid.”  
“ _You’re_ stupid.”  
“I’m done here.”

With that, he shut his laptop, stood up, and left the room. He probably oughta shower before leaving — his mother would know if he didn’t.

***

“You’re sitting in my spot.”

Rey looked up at her older brother and grinned. “Hello, loser.”  
“Rey. That’s my spot.”  
“Says who?”  
“Says me.”  
“And that gives you authority how?”

Ben pouted. “‘Cause I’m older than you. I deserve your respect.”  
“Oh, _God,_ ” Rey exclaimed scornfully. “Why are you the way you are?”

“Mother,” Ben called, turning himself towards the kitchen. “Would you kindly inform your daughter that she’s being a little bitch?”  
“ _Me?! You’re_ the one who's _whining_ —”

Leia looked up from the meat she was prepping and shot a glance at her husband. “Remind me: did our children actually grow up or was that just in my head?”

Han answered without looking up from his newspaper. “Look, all I wanted was a hot girl. You’re the one who wanted kids.”  
Leia rolled her eyes. “Wow, I’m flattered.”

At that moment, Finn came in from the backyard, brushing his palms off on his jeans. “Grill’s ready to go, dad.”  
“Great,” said the elder, pushing back from the table and tossing aside his paper. “Thanks.”

Finn walked into the living room, where Ben had resigned himself to sitting in the middle of the couch (rather than his preferred corner) and Rey was busy punching buttons on the TV remote, getting increasingly frustrated with every passing second.

“ARGH! Why won’t it—”   
“What are you trying to do?” Ben asked calmly.  
“I’m trying to get it to connect to the speaker system!”  
“Oh, well you have to—”  
Rey smacked his hand as he reached for the remote. “I don’t need your help.”  
“Just hand it to me, I know how to do it.”  
“No, I’ll figure it out my _self—_ ”  
“Just _let me help you—_ ”

Finn rolled his eyes as they started bickering again, both wrestling for control of the remote. After a few seconds, he huffed, then walked over to the TV and shut it off. “There,” he said. “Now it’s not an issue.”

The two older siblings froze, then began yelling simultaneously.

“HEY!”  
“DUDE, SERIOUSLY—”  
“WE WERE WATCHING THAT—”  
“No, you weren’t. You were squabbling.”  
“God, you’re such an asshole!”  
“Honestly, I don’t know whatPoe sees in you—’”  
“Wait, who’s Poe?”

“He's no one” Finn said at the same time as Rey asked gleefully “You don’t know?”  
Ben just looked confused. “Know what?”  
“ _Nothing,_ ” Finn hissed.  
Rey ignored him. “Poe has a lover,” she imparted, looking mighty pleased with herself. 

“He’s _not_ my lover,” Finn protested.  
Ben’s brow was pinched in the middle. “Since when does Finn have lovers?”  
“I don’t _have_ anyone and also, that’s offensive.”  
“Why is that offensive? I don’t have a lover.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” Rey muttered under her breath.  
“I’m sorry, why are you talking again?” Ben demands, wheeling on her. “If I remember correctly, you are also single.”  
“Yes, by _choice_. Unlike you, _I_ have options.”  
“How do you know I don’t have options?”  
“Oh my God, just _shut up_ ,” Finn groaned, dragging a pillow up to his face.

This was gonna be a long night.

***

Thank heavens for his mother. If it hadn’t been for Leia calling him into the kitchen to help her with the salad, Finn’s convinced they’d have a double homicide on their hands. He loved his siblings, but Rey and Ben could bicker to kingdom come and Finn had limits — he was only human, for God’s sake.

But even rescue comes with a price, and Finn wasn’t entirely thrilled about the one Leia was asking of him.

“So…what’s all this about a guy?”

Finn’s head dropped back between his shoulders as he gave his mom a weary sigh. “Of all the times for you to be a stereotypical mother, could it _not_ be now?”

It was one of the things Finn most appreciated about her: she was not your run-of-the-mill mom. She didn’t hover, she wasn’t overly affectionate, and she was hella cool. Sure, she had a temper sometimes, but it was never unwarranted…

Okay, _usually_ it wasn't; for the most part, she was pretty chill.

So _of course_ , it would stand to reason that the one area in which Leia Skywalker was akin to almost every other mother on the planet would be in regard to his romantic prospects.

Such was his life.

Leia chuckled. “I’m teasing.” She kissed his temple, a quiet yet rare sign of affection that, quite honestly, Finn was surprised to get — she usually saved those for Significant Moments. “You know I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

And _that_ , that right there, was perhaps his favorite thing about her — she was patient. She never pushed. Never made him say anything before he was ready to, just waited until his thoughts were in order and his feet were grounded and trusted him to come to her whenever that moment came around — ‘cause it always did.

And she was always ready to listen.

And sometimes, even though he knew she would wait, Finn surprised himself in finding that he was readier than he had initially thought.

Today was one of those times.

“He runs the checkout at Millennium Market.” Finn paused, licked his lips, then continued. “I think he’s a baker, too. Or. I don’t think — I know he is. I bought some of his bread the other day…it’s really good.”

Leia smiled. “Does he have a name?”  
Finn smiled, too. “Yeah. Poe.”  
She nodded. “Alright. Poe,” she said, testing the name out for herself. She moved to the sink, rinsed the salad greens in some cold water, then tossed them in a bowl.

She didn’t ask any further questions, just pointed to a knife and some tomatoes that were sitting on the cutting board. Finn picked up on her unspoken request and started slicing.

The silence was comfortable, and Finn felt no rush as he thought through what more he wanted to share. “He, uh. He’s got these — these curls. Just, like all over." His hand gestures as he speaks. "Super dark and crazy and — and just. Really pretty.”

Leia raised her eyebrows. “Really pretty, huh? High praise.”  
There was a snarky response on the tip of his tongue, but it melted the second he felt his phone buzz.

Okay, well, the buzz didn’t melt it so much as the name “Poe” flashing across his screen; he thumbed the message open.

> **From Poe:**
> 
> ok this manga is seriously amazing, i'm re-reading it
> 
> i totally feel like a teenager but whatever :P

“That him?” Leia asks with a knowing grin.  
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he mumbles, shoving the phone back in his pocket but not quite managing to hide his smile.

His mom notices and raises an eyebrow. “You’re not gonna respond?”  
“I will respond in my own time,” he says, playing at indifference.  
Leia just stares at him. He tries to ignore her, but let’s be honest: he’s weak.

“What?” he huffs.  
“Don’t be stupid — answer the goddamn text.”  
"Fine."

> **To Poe:**
> 
> Lol glad you like it.

“You two text a lot?” she asks next.  
“Ummm. I mean not a _ton_ , but like…a little bit, every couple of days?”  
Leia just nods, seemingly satisfied, then starts mixing up the salad dressing.

His phone buzzes again.

> **From Poe:**
> 
> hey i was thinking
> 
> tomorrow’s cinnamon roll day
> 
> you should stop by and get some
> 
> maybe bring my hero #2?

Finn’s teeth are biting his lip again, trying _so_ _hard_ to keep his smile from splitting his face.

> **To Poe:**
> 
> You’d like that wouldn’t you?

“You don’t have to do that, you know.”  
Finn looks up from his phone, brows furrowing a bit. “Do what?”  
Leia’s mouth quirks. “You don’t have to temper your reactions. It’s okay to be a little giddy over someone.”  
Finn’s eyes drop to the counter. “Yeah, I know.”

Leia knows him, is pretty sure she knows what he's thinking. She searches his face a bit, hesitating, wondering if she should bring up the past or leave it be for now.

The phone buzzes before she can make a decision; Finn opens the message.

> **From Poe:**
> 
> you know i would sweetheart

Finn’s laugh is breathless, his smile taking up space in the crinkles near his eyes.

And Leia knows, in that moment, what Finn has been denying for weeks now, even to himself…

He’s head over heels for this guy, falling harder than she’d thought he ever would again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOOOOO BOY WE’VE GOT SOME HISTORY COMING UPPPPPPPPPP!!! What did Leia mean by bringing up the past? Why hadn’t she thought Finn would ever fall in love again? Isn't Poe the first person to ask for his number? WHAT'S GONNA HAPPEN ?!?!?!  
> Just a few things before I sign off for today, read on if you feel like it…  
> 
> 
>   1. Here's the link for the YouTube video Finn was watching, it's got good insight on staying healthy (both mentally and physically) during quarantine (and also there's a big fluffy dog):  
>  <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bqq_1Z1dgSU>
>   2. Regarding this fic, for the sake of making everything easy and simple, I've decided that Leia wasn't adopted and, therefore, has always gone by Leia Skywalker rather than Leia Organa.  
>  Also, rather than Leia taking on Han’s last name when they got married, they chose to buck the system and Han took hers instead. This means that Han and Ben both have Skywalker as their last name.
>   3. Finally, in case you hadn’t noticed, Poe flirts _hard_ in this fic and I will 100% admit that it’s me projecting all of my personal wishes and desires onto my characters. No shame.
> 

> 
> Alright, that’s it! Hope you all enjoyed this chapter and as always, stay safe out there! Love to all <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More quality time between mother and son (aka Leia and Finn), as well as a little surprise at the end. ;)  
> 
> 
> Oh, and more eggs. Always more eggs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I know I’ve tagged this as Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts but in regard to this chapter, I lied — we’re gonna hurt a little bit.  
> 
> 
> BUT I WILL FIX IT DON’T. WORRY.  
> 
> 
> Also, while in my head everyone has been following the appropriate safety measures, I realize now that I haven’t really emphasized that much and that there are a handful of social cues that don’t really work when your mouth is covered. So! Sorry about the inconsistencies, I’ll be paying more attention to that from here out!  
> 
> 
> Here's Chapter 6! Enjoy <3

“How’s Poe?” Rey yells, from somewhere in the general direction of…the couch? Her voice is muffled, so it’s hard to tell.

Finn’s trying to maintain his balance while taking his shoes off with one hand, and holding the grocery bags and his mask with the other — it’s not really working.

“He’s good. He, uh” — he trips — “he’s annoyed ‘cause his boss is making him work an extra hour and he’s sick of wearing his mask.”

Never mind the fact that said mask was one of those fancy satin ones, or that it was black and made him look kind of hot (look, it was roguish and Finn had a type. Sue him).

Although, he did hate it for just a moment, when it kept him from seeing Poe’s smile as Finn handed him the new manga.

Presently, Rey says something in response, but it’s still muffled and Finn can’t quite make it out.

_What is she doing?_

He finally makes his way over to the couch and snorts out a laugh at what he finds: his sister, upside down, feet hanging over the back and hair brushing the floor, with Calliope (basically) sitting on her face.

“What are you doing?” he asks, still snickering.  
Another muffled answer.  
“Sorry, what?”  
She pushed Calliope (who meowed in protest) away from her face. “I said ‘recovering.’”  
“From what?”  
“The idiocy of our brother.”  
Finn laughs again. “What happened?” he asked, grinning.

If looks could kill, Rey’s definitely would. “You know how I brought my white afghan over to mum and dad’s so mum could fix the hem?”  
“Uh-huh.”  
“Well, apparently she had it folded over the back of the couch…and Ben walked by…and spilled _grape juice_ all over it.”

_Great job, Ben._

“Yikes,” Finn winces. “That really sucks.”  
“Yeah. It does,” she affirmed grouchily.

As if on cue, Finn’s phone buzzed.

> **From Ben:**
> 
> Evil Empress on the warpath. Proceed with caution.

“Speak of the devil,” he mutters.  
“What’s he saying?”  
Finn reads her the text.  
“That little—”  
“Ope, and now he’s calling me.”  
“Oh, dear Lord.”

Finn picks up the call.  
“Dude, you literally just texted me. Gimme a second to respond,” he says, in lieu of greeting.  
“This is quicker. Is she still angry?”

Finn looks over at his sister. “Are you still angry?”  
“It’s a $75 dollar blanket. Of course I’m still angry.”  
“Yeah, man,” Finn reports to his brother. “Might have to put some effort into this one.”

“Finn, I swear, it was an accident—”  
“Dude, _obviously_ it was an accident. If it had been on purpose, I wouldn’t be talking to you right now.”  
“Why not?”  
“‘Cause you’d be dead.”  
“…Okay, fair point.”

***

Rey was just finishing up a load of laundry (including the sheets from the hallway that Finn kept “forgetting” to wash), when her phone started ringing. Glancing at the caller ID, she picked up.

“Hi, mum!”  
“Hey, kiddo. Got a minute?”  
“Yeah, one sec.”

She let the lid on the dryer drop shut, then exited the laundry room and made her way downstairs. The sun was pouring into the living room, filling up the space and warming their cozy window seat.

 _Perfect,_ she thought, curling up against the cushions.

“‘Kay, what’s up?” she asked her mom, settling into place.  
“Has Finn told you much about his new flame?”  
“Oh, Poe?”  
“Yeah. I’m just…curious to hear your opinion, if you have one.”

Rey dragged her tongue across her teeth. “I mean, I’ve only met him once. He seemed really nice, though. And it was clear to me that there are feelings on both sides. But otherwise, Finn’s been his usual clammed-up self about it.”  
“I suspected as much,” Leia muttered.

Rey snagged one of the pillows stacked on the floor and pulled it up to her lap. “Why do you ask? Has he said something to you?”  
“It came up when you were over for dinner the other night—”  
“Wait, when?!”

Leia’s tone was dry as a desert. “While you and Ben were busy acting like five-year-olds.”  
“Ha ha ha. So funny.”  
“Feel free to prove me wrong.”  
Rey just grumbled.

“Anyway,” Leia continued, “he just seemed very…restrained about the whole thing.”  
“Mm, yes,” Rey hummed in agreement. “Never wants to make a big deal out of anything.”

“Exactly. And then about halfway through the conversation, Poe started texting him and he got all…”  
“Super happy yet purposefully acting as if he weren’t all giggly and gooey inside?”  
“Bingo.”

Rey chuckled, shaking her head. “That kid.”  
Leia was quiet, but her silence practically vibrated through the phone.  
“You’re worried about something,” Rey said, stating the obvious.

There were a few more seconds of quiet as Leia gathered her thoughts. “I’m just…wondering if maybe Phasma had a bigger effect on him than he let on.”

Rey mulled that over. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that were true.”  
Her mother hummed. “I’ll talk with him about it. I just wanted to know if you had any input first, since you live with him.”

“Yeah, I don’t really have anything to add. Sounds like he’s been pretty much the same with you as he has with me.”  
“Alright. I'll see what I can find out.”  
“Okay, mum. Keep me posted.”

***

> **From Mom:**
> 
> Any plans tomorrow afternoon?
> 
> **To Mom:**
> 
> Have to finish a few things for work, but other than that, no.
> 
> **From Mom:**
> 
> Let’s grab lunch.
> 
> You can pick me up at noon.

Somewhere in the back of Finn's mind, a little flag went up — pretty much the only reason Leia ever took him out for lunch was to "talk" about something.

> **To Mom:**
> 
> Um. Okay.
> 
> Why?
> 
> **To Mom:**
> 
> Mom?
> 
> **To Mom:**
> 
> MOM!!!

***

Finn was a bit on edge. He’d had absolute radio silence from his mother since the day before, and he did not like it one bit.

He would not be fooled — she was up to something.  
  
“It’s free lunch, stop whining” had been Rey’s response, but Finn remained skeptical.

“Where are you going?” was Rey’s follow-up.  
“The Mandalorian,” he’d responded.  
“I thought they were closed?”  
“They’re doing order pick-up.”

“Oo! Can you get me a zillo cake?”  
“Maybe — if you’re nice to me.”  
“What do you mean, ‘if I’m nice to you’?”  
“I mean, _if you’re nice to me_.”

He got an eye roll for that.

But he also got his dishes washed for him and an ice cream sundae, so whatever.

He was about ten minutes from his parents’ house when a text popped up on his lock screen — at the next stop light, he swiped it open.

> **From Mom:**
> 
> Change of plans. Meet me at Yavin Park.

“Are you kidding me?” he muttered exasperatedly, punching the call button.

“Yeah?” answered his mom.  
“I thought I was picking you up.”  
“Well, you were, but then your father remembered he had an eye appointment and he’s not supposed to drive afterwards, so he needed me to take him.” 

The car ahead of him started moving, so Finn hit the speakerphone button and set the phone down in the cup holder. "Do you need me to grab the food?"  
"I'll pick it up, it's on my way."  
"Okay. See you there."

***

The second Leia’s car pulls up next to his in the parking lot, Finn’s jumping out and asking questions.

“Okay, so why are we here?” he demands across the top of his mom’s sedan.  
“What, a mother can’t take her baby out to lunch just for the hell of it?”  
“Not _my_ mother, no.”  
Leia rolled her eyes. “Let’s get situated first, then we can talk.”

She grabs the bag of food from its place on the floor, then motions to the backseat. “Can you grab the picnic blanket? It’s under the passenger seat.”  
Finn does as he’s told, then joins his mom as she starts walking.

They end up finding a nice spot in the shade, beneath one of the many maple trees growing in the park. There’s no one else around, so Finn takes his mask off and his mom follows suit as they sit down atop the thick woven blanket.

“Did you remember the zillo cake for Rey?”  
“Yeah, it’s at the bottom, I think.”  
He finds it, then takes a picture and sends it to his sister.

> **To Rey:**
> 
> [image]
> 
> No questions about Poe for a week.
> 
> **From Rey:**
> 
> Done!

Leia stabbed at her barbacoa, forking a well-sized bite. “So. How’ve you been lately?”

Finn blinked as he attempted to keep the contents of his burrito in the tortilla. “Um. Good. I’m good.”  
She raised a brow. “You sure about that?”

Finn sighed. “Mom, clearly there’s something on your mind. Just tell me.”  
Leia waited a beat, then dove right in. “Are you really over Phasma, or just pretending to be?”

Finn felt like he’d been hit by a truck, and the sound of that name had something cold and sour twisting in his gut. “Why do you ask?” he intoned.

Leia took a sip of her root beer. “I was thinking about some things from our conversation the other night, about Poe. And I couldn’t help wondering if maybe what happened with Phasma hurt you more than you let us believe.”

Finn had no idea how to answer that.

Or maybe the problem was that he _did_ know the answer and was simply afraid of admitting it out loud.

“Finn.” Her voice softened. “Am I right?”  
Finn swallowed. He felt like a live wire, exposed and fraying at the ends. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

He drew in a breath, then let it out in a slow puff. “She…she was a really good liar.”  
His mom gave a humorless chuckle. “Yeah, she was, wasn’t she?”

Finn’s brow furrowed. “I guess I just…felt like it wasn’t worth making a big deal over. I mean, we were never actually _in_ a relationship, so…I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I guess I felt like I didn’t have the right to be hurt over something that never really amounted to anything.”

Leia was stunned. “But you still had _a_ relationship with her, even if you weren’t officially _dating._ Just because you didn’t have a label on it, doesn’t make it any less real or hurtful.”

Finn wasn’t convinced, and the look on his face said as much.  
“Finn, you were… _emotionally intimate_ with her. You shared some really personal things. That’s significant, especially for someone whose emotions stay pretty far beneath the surface—”

“But it wasn’t real!” he exclaimed, the thought exploding from his mouth before he had time to catch it. “It wasn’t— it…” He trailed off, glaring at his burrito. “It wasn’t real. And I should’ve known better.”

“Finn, she had _all_ of us fooled!” Leia exclaimed, frustrated and furious at the idea that this woman still held so much power over her son.  
  
“But…but I should've _known,_ should’ve… _realized_ what she was doing—”  
“Finn, that is not in _any_ way your fault. She was manipulative, she was deceitful…and there’s no shame in being affected by that.”

Even as Finn shoved his food into his mouth, Leia could tell he was thinking. She waited a beat, giving him time to catch up, before continuing.

“None of that means that you’re a failure, or that you’re somehow lesser in value than you were before.”  
“I know, I just— she—” He let out a frustrated breath.

 _Just slow down_ , he thought to himself, brow furrowing as he tried to put feelings into words. “She made me feel…safe. So to find out that she wasn’t, that none of it was real, was…really hard.”

 _And if I can’t rely on other people to make me feel safe, then I’ll do it_ **_myself_ ** _by keeping them at a distance._

Leia bobbed her head in understanding. There was a break in the conversation as both parties paused for a few more bites of food. After a handful of minutes, the older of the two spoke up.

“So, how does this affect what you have with Poe?”  
“Mom. I don’t have _anything_ with Poe.”  
“That’s not what Rey tells me.”  
“Yeah, well, Rey’s wrong.”  
“Why do you say that?”  
“Because— because, she just is.”

  
Leia wasn’t buying it. “Really? That’s the best you can do?”  
Finn groaned in frustration, burrito abandoned in its packaging as his head dropped back between his shoulders. Leia just took another bite and waited, which was infuriating because…

Because Finn knew she was winning this one. He knew that _she_ knew that she was winning, and that just added insult to injury.

He sighed, tension draining from his body just as soon as it’d appeared. _Might as well just get on with it._ “Okay, fine. It does seem like…like _maybe_ Poe likes me.”

Leia snorted, but kept quiet as Finn shot her a Look. After a few seconds, his eyes drifted away, drawn to the sight of a squirrel digging for nuts nearby. He watches for a few seconds, then continues. “I’m just hesitant to believe anything, and I don’t think you can really blame me for that.”

His mom’s smile is gentle. “No. No, I cannot, nor will I try.” The smile fades as her brows furrow. “But, honey…you can’t live in fear, either.”  
Her gaze becomes too much, and Finn distracts himself by shoving more burrito in his mouth.

There’s a beat of silence, during which Leia takes another sip of her drink. “Look, I’m not saying you should rush into anything. Take your time, feel it out…but don’t let her keep you from something better — she doesn’t deserve that power.”

***

Rey comes down from her room later that evening and immediately wishes she hadn’t — the kitchen is a disaster.

The zillo cake sitting on the counter is almost enough to make her forget about it — until she opens the fridge and sees that, as seems to be the custom nowadays, they’re out of eggs.

Rey tiredly rubbed her eyes as she let the door to the fridge swing shut. “Finn, darling, can we um. Can we discuss the, quite frankly, _ridiculous_ amount of eggs you burn through in a week?”

Silence from the lump on the couch.  
“Finn?”  
Grumbling.  
“Dammit, Finn, please get your face out of the cushions and speak to me like the well-adjusted adult you pretend to be.”

Ouch. He sighed, but sat up. “Rude.” He blinked blearily.  
 _Patience. Like a saint,_ Rey chanted to herself. “Why are the eggs gone again?”  
“‘Cause I like to bake.”

“Yes, I understand that. But you do realize a house with two people only needs so many containers of cookies before they become a bit superfluous?”  
He shrugs. “They taste good.”

Rey blinks at him. Hard. “Finn! There are _five containers_ of oatmeal chocolate chip, plus two bags of peanut butter. _Just from this week!_ ”

“Rey, what else am I supposed to do? We can’t go anywhere, too much screen time makes my head hurt, and I can only read so many books before I gotta get up and move — baking’s all I’ve got left.”

She sighs. “Look, all I’m saying is that, _maybe_ , we can chill on the baking for awhile.”  
Finn gives her a flat look. “I am disinclined to acquiesce to your request.”

She blinks, annoyed by the reference. Rey has nothing against _Pirates of the Carribean_ , but this whole exchange was getting exhausting.

“Okay, very clever, Barbosa,” she says sarcastically. “Can we at least wait until we finish the ones we already have?”  
He purses his lips in thought. “Fine. I consent.”  
“Wonderful. Thank you. Now, would you please head on down to Poe’s and get some more eggs?”

“Okay, first of all, it’s not _Poe’s_ store, he just _works_ there.” Rey rolls her eyes; he moves on. “Secondly, why do _I_ have to go?”  
“Because I’m not the one who’s using all the eggs, am I?”  
“I’m not using _all_ of them—”  
“Finn. Really?”

She raised her eyebrows as he scowled, re-burying his face in the couch. “I’ll go tomorrow,” he says. “Now eat your cake and leave me alone.”

***

Finn is _ecstatic_. Apparently, Millennium Market had just had their eggs delivered — there were at least thirty cartons in the cooler.

And really, that’s just concerning — when the only excitement in your life is the grocery store having eggs on their shelf, you know something dire has happened.

“Hey, buddy!” Poe calls, coming in from the back of the store.  
“Hey, Poe.”  
“Can I grab you anything from the rack?” the man asks, gesturing to the cooling racks full of sweets.  
“Nah, that’s alright. Thanks, though.”  
“You sure?”

Finn’s voice turns sheepish. “Yeah…Rey says I’ve been baking too much. No more baked goods until our cookies are gone.”  
Poe laughs. “Fair enough.”

Finn grabs the eggs and a few other essentials before heading over to check out. As he’s approaching the register, a green-eyed bombshell walks in from the back; there’s a name tag pinned to her shirt: _Zorii Bliss._

“Poe, have you seen the inventory log?” she asks, hands on her hips.  
Poe looks at her over his shoulder. “Yeah, it’s over here somewhere.”

She comes over to rummage beneath the counter while Poe rings up groceries. Her shoulder grazes his thigh when he doesn’t move out of the way fast enough, and Finn decides he kinda hates her.

If anyone gets to stand that close to Poe, it should be him.

Finn is shocked as the thought registers in his head — since when did he get jealous around Poe?

 _Since there was a beautiful woman who could totally steal him away from you,_ says a voice in the back of his head.

“Alright, total comes to $14.47,” Poe says.  
Finn blinks. “That’s not right.”  
“What do you mean, it’s not right?” Zorii asks, standing up with a paper-filled binder tucked under her arm.  
“I mean, I’m pretty sure he missed a few things.”  
She looks expectantly at Poe. “Well?”

The cashier juts out his chin, and Finn's heart starts fanning itself at the defiant flicker in his eyes. “I used my employee discount. No big deal.”

Finn’s eyes widened in surprise as Zorii narrowed hers at Poe. There was a tense second, wherein Poe held her gaze before exclaiming, “Oh, what do you care?”

Zorii didn’t push, much to Poe’s surprise. Her only response was an inquisitive “huh.” She stared at Poe for a handful of seconds, as if trying to decipher some puzzle, then returned to the back room without another word.

Once she’s gone, Poe gives Finn a flat look. “I know you’re a math whiz, but you’re not supposed to expose my attempts to woo you to my boss.”

Finn would apologize, except he’s caught on one thing: “You’re trying to woo me?”  
  
Poe chuckles somewhat incredulously. “I mean, yeah…haven’t you noticed? I haven’t exactly been subtle.”

Finn balked. “I just— I mean, I guess I didn’t really…think that you meant any of it.”  
The other frowned. “Why wouldn’t I mean it?”  
“Um…I mean, no one’s ever meant it before, so…”

Poe is baffled. There's a story there, he's positive, although he won't ask what it is — it's not really any of his business. Nevertheless, he's pissed at the idea that somebody made Finn feel like he wasn't worth attention.

 _You need to do better,_ he thinks to himself; he clears his throat. “Okay, well, let me be as clear as possible: I like you” — Finn chokes — “and if it’s alright with you, I’d like to take you out sometime.”

Finn is pretty sure he’s having an aneurysm; in the absence of a response, Poe speaks up again. “Finn? You okay, darlin’?”

 _Dear God, I can’t handle this,_ Finn thinks. He tugs at the elastic looped around his ears, trying to get more air under his mask. He’s scrambling for an answer when someone behind him says, “S’cuse me, I’d like to checkout.”

Finn whirls around, feeling completely mortified. “Oh! So sorry,” he apologizes, moving off to the side.  
There’s an older gentleman standing about six feet behind him; he waves off the apology. “No worries.”

Poe doesn’t look terribly thrilled to have been interrupted, but he does his job and soon enough, the man is on his way.

As soon as he’s gone, Poe glances at Finn. “Don’t go anywhere,” he says, then moves toward the back room. Pushing the door open a bit, he calls out, “Zor, is it alright if I take off early?”

“What time is it?”  
“Just after 4:30.”  
“…Yeah, that’s fine.”  
“Sweet, thank you.”

Poe shuts the door behind him and makes his way back over to Finn. “Can we talk outside?” he asks.  
Finn swallows. “Yeah.”

As the two start walking, Finn berates himself. _Stop being so afraid. It’s not a big deal._

But it kind of is, isn’t it? It’s trust, and risk, and the possibility that he could be hung out to dry again.

_Don’t be dramatic. It’s not like anything terrible happened._

Which, technically, was true. He hadn’t been hurt or forced into anything — not physically anyway.

But emotionally? Finn was still recovering — his entire love life since Phasma (or lack thereof) was evidence of that.

Outside, they crossed over to a park bench across the street; neither one sat down. Poe just looked at him for a few seconds, but before Finn could feel weird about it, he spoke. 

“Look, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable—”  
“You didn't make me uncomfortable.”  
Poe doesn't look convinced. "You sure?"  
Finn nods.  
"So, that's alright, then? If I take you out?"

In his head, Finn hears his mother’s voice again: _Don’t let her keep you from something better — she doesn’t deserve that power._

He takes a deep breath, holds it, then releases.  
 _Fuck you, Phasma._ “Alright…yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ho ho, look at Poe getting all sassy with his boss! But let’s be honest, are we really surprised? No. We’re not.  
> 
> 
> Also, shoutout to sapphistication for the idea of Poe using his employee discount on Finn’s groceries!
> 
> Last thing for today: when I first started posting I had a bunch of chapters pre-written, which is why I was able to update so often. However, I'm all caught up now, so these chapters are coming hot off the presses and will most likely be updating once a week, maybe twice...we shall see. ;)  
> 
> 
> That's it for now, lovelies <3 Stay safe, stay healthy, and see you soon!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys' first date, plus some good ol' fashioned story time...
> 
> Also feat. flashbacks of Phasma and how awful she was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEADS UP:
> 
> Rating/tag changes! I've bumped this fic to Teen and Up due to some of the emotional angst coming up (it’s honestly not that bad, I promise, but I thought I’d level up just in case).
> 
> I also removed the Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts tag, cuz the writing gods have decided that there's gonna be a _little_ bit of hurt. But like I’ve said, don't worry! Happy endings for everyone, always.
> 
> Last thing: I’m just realizing that I never shared my inspiration for the title! Inspired by the song “Sunflower” from the movie _Sierra Burgess is a Loser,_ cuz I feel like Finn is one of those slightly insecure little peoples (like me) who never quite believes that someone would pick them out of a crowd.
> 
> Spoiler alert: he’s wrong. Cuz Poe would. Hint hint, wink wink.

Finn was nervous. Like, really fucking nervous. He hadn’t been on a date since his freshman year of college (although quite honestly, the jury was out on whether it could be considered an actual date or not) and he's kind of freaking out a bit.

But he’s also pissed. Because on a scale of one to ten, he’d actually been hovering at a solid seven that morning, as far as excitement and confidence went.

I mean, sure, the remaining thirty percent was made up of heart palpitations and the tell-tale signs of a hemorrhage, but whatever — Finn was feeling proud of his relative lack of insecurity.

That is, until he hit shuffle on his classical music playlist…and that song started playing…

And everything flared hot white.

***

_Five years prior…_

Finn felt his eyes flutter shut as he leaned back against the wall behind him. He felt the tension melt away, his lungs slowly emptying themselves of air as it was pushed out through his nose. He could feel the frenzy in his brain instantly settle — like crisp, cool water poured over angry, glowing coals.

This was what he’d needed, what his mind had been unconsciously begging for that whole day — and she’d known in an instant.

She was a _brilliant_ piano player. Phasma Captains had never had a lesson in her life, and yet she played like an angel. She could bring you to your knees or the brink of euphoria, drown you in grief or lull you to sleep, all with a flutter of spidery fingers — a gentle press of ivory keys.

His eyes blinked open in a syrupy manner, lashes dragging sluggishly through the air as he drew his gaze to the woman seated at the piano.

She was ethereal, with an icy elegance that graced her every move — so terrifyingly beautiful that sometimes he couldn’t _breathe_.

And as the notes of Pachelbel’s Canon cradled his head, he found himself wondering if maybe he loved her.

***

So yeah. He was pissed now. Because dammit, he’d worked _hard_ to get to where he was now, and the fact that _four fucking notes_ was enough to make it all topple really made his blood boil.

She’d managed to poison one of the world’s most beautiful pieces — and he hated her for it.

It wasn’t until his junior year that he was able to separate the bitterness from the melody, to relish it the way he had before she’d swept into his life. As stupid as it seemed, he’d been so proud when he’d finally reclaimed that little piece of himself.

So the fact that _today, of all days,_ is the first time he’s been triggered in three years is enough to make him wanna throw something.

Preferably, a chair.  
At Phasma’s face.

He blamed his mother, for bringing it up the other day and therefore making it easily accessible to his brain…

And for making him aware that, perhaps, he hadn’t progressed as much as he’d thought.

***

Rey was waiting for him when he got downstairs.  
Like actually — she must have heard him coming down, 'cause she was _literally_ waiting for him at the bottom of the staircase.

“What are you doing?” he asked in a bland tone.  
“Are you ready for your date?” she asked in return, waggling her eyebrows.  
Finn rolled his eyes. “It’s just coffee.”

And thank the _Lord_ for that. He’d been so relieved when Poe had texted him asking if he wanted to grab coffee. It was low-key, low- _pressure…_  
Poe had even, coincidentally, picked Dio's (aka Finn's favorite coffee shop).

“That wasn’t the question,” Rey countered, bringing him back to the present.  
Finn walked over to the pantry without answering, because no — he wasn’t ready.

But like hell was he gonna tell Rey that.

***

It was raining.  
As in, _pouring._

They had been planning on picking up the coffee and then going to a park somewhere (since, just like almost every other place, the coffee shop was only open for pick-up), but obviously that was no longer happening.

Poe had called him a little bit ago, asking what Finn wanted to do about it.  
“I mean…I guess we’ll have to postpone?” The idea killed him, but if the outdoors were a no-go then there wasn’t much else they could do.

Poe didn’t seem to like that answer either. “Yeah…I guess,” he answered, although his tone was notably less perky. But then Poe got an idea: “Or! I could pick you up at the shop and we can still go to the park and just sit in my car — you know, watch the rain or something.”

To be completely honest? Finn loves that idea. He imagines listening to the rain as it pounds on the car roof, the sound drumming its way through his skull with a soothing hum…

And there’s something about the idea of being in a car with Poe, watching the rain fall around them, that has his heart squirming in all the best ways.

So that’s what they go with. Finn picks up their orders and then waits under the awning for Poe to come get him, trying to squeeze out as much of the water from his jeans as possible — which sort of proves to be an impossible task.

See, the awning is all well and good when the rain is falling straight down, but the randomly gusting wind has a habit of making it fall at an angle — which means he still gets wet.

Finn feels a little self-conscious as he glances down at the drenched denim stretching indecently across his thighs.  
Whatever — maybe Poe won’t notice.

He’s just starting to feel buzzy, nervous energy radiating throughout his whole body, when he sees a car pull up along the curb across the street.

And Jesus.  
What a car.

It’s an army-green 1956 Ford Thunderbird, which in and of itself is wicked cool — but the image of _Poe_ driving the car is ridiculously hot.  
Basically, he’s a vintage wet-dream — Finn thinks he might keel over and die.

 _Where the hell did he get a car like that?_ he wonders.

The driver’s-side window rolls down, allowing Poe to lean out a bit. “Need a ride?” he calls out with a lazy grin (while also sneaking a peek at Finn’s wet jeans).

And now Finn’s _really_ close to collapsing, because nobody’s prepared him for the sight of a rain-slick Poe: curls plastered to his face; water slipping down his nose, his neck, his collarbones; every angle dewy and fresh and just…

It makes Finn _ache_ — for warm fingertips and soft breaths, smile lines and flashing teeth. For tenderslowquiet and explosive movements and _intimacy.  
_And it terrifies him.

_Get your shit together, Finn._

“Momma always said don’t talk to strangers,” he replies teasingly.  
“That really all I am to you, sweetheart? Thought at least we were friends.”

Finn snorted, ignoring the fact that he likely (most certainly) was blushing. In an effort to re-engage his wit rather than his fangirling emotions, he says, “You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?”

Finn watches as the man laughs, hoarding details: the grey light hitting Poe’s knuckles on the steering wheel; the damp pink of his mouth; the dark shadow brushed along his jaw…  
He takes them all in, stuffing them into corners and pockets and anything that’ll hold even an ounce of this man.

“Do you wanna wear masks?” Poe inquires politely, coming down from his laughter.  
Finn shrugs. “I’m okay without them if you are.”  
“Sweet,” he answers, eyes still crinkling at the corners.

Finn walks around to the passenger side and gets in, handing Poe his Americano.  
“What do you have?” the man asks, nodding at Finn’s own cup.  
“Hot chocolate, no whip,” he answers, taking off his mask.  
“No whip?”  
“Nope. Too foamy. Makes me wanna gag.”

And because his life sucks, his brain picks that moment to once again remind him of Phasma.

***

_Five years prior…_

They were sitting in one of the many practice rooms at the Alderaan Conservatory of Music.

When Phasma had called him requesting that he pick up coffee, he’d jumped at the opportunity to sit in a room and listen to her play (never mind that this was the fifth coffee run he’d made for her this week, or that he’d paid for most of them). He’d stopped at Corellia Coffee (which was near campus) and then made his way through the labyrinth of halls that made up the music school.

Now, Finn’s face contorted in distaste as he lifted the lid off his hot chocolate and discovered that they’d forgotten to omit the whipped cream.  
He _hated_ whipped cream.

In the next moment, though, he forgets all about it, distracted by the sound of music he hadn’t heard since he was a child.

Finn stared at Phasma in amazement. Of all the people he’d think would like ragtime, he hadn’t in a million years thought it’d be her. Rag was upbeat and happy and… _perky._ It was like walking down the street in the bright sunshine on a summer afternoon, with a pep in your step and arms swinging at your sides without a care in the world.

Phasma was _nothing_ like that. She wasn’t bouncy, or joyful, or bubbly — she was frigid elegance and severe facial expressions, with the occasional razor-sharp grin that said, “we both know I win.”

And she was gorgeous, sure. But it was predatory, intimidating — characteristic of a woman who was always in charge and expected nothing less.

By this point, Phasma had noticed his gawking. “What?” she inquired, giving him a weird look.  
“You know Scott Joplin?” he asked incredulously.  
Her brows scrunch in confusion. “Who?”

“That song you’re playing,” Finn explains, nodding at the piano. “Do you know what it is?”  
Phasma’s face clears. “Oh, no, just something I heard once on a TV commercial.”

And that right there was the breadth of Phasma’s talent: the woman could hear a tune _once —_ on a _TV commercial,_ no less — and within a day she'd be playing it like she’d written it herself.

“Why, what is it?” she inquires further.  
Finn licked his lips. “ _The Entertainer,_ by Scott Joplin. It’s, uh…it’s a really famous rag piece.”

“Rag?” she repeats, seemingly clueless.  
“You know, ragtime? It was, um. It was a piano movement, from the 1890s ‘til almost the 20s. Joplin was one of the most famous musicians from that time.”

“Oh.” She blinked, not looking terribly impressed. “Well, that’s probably why I’ve never heard of it,” she replied haughtily, returning her attention to the keys before her. “I only listen to classical.”

***

At the time, Finn had seen her disdain as proof of how sophisticated she was. He’d been impressed; she was high-bred, well-educated, classy…

He realized now that, really, she’d been stuck-up, condescending, and proud.

Poe brings him back to the present. “Earth to Finn,” he joked, waving a hand across Finn’s field of vision.  
He blinked, coming back to himself. “Sorry.”  
Poe’s face is kind, albeit a tiny bit concerned. “No worries. You good?”

Is he? Finn’s not sure that he is.  
Or, rather, he is, he’s fine…but he’s wondering if maybe sharing certain things would be beneficial for moving forward.  
Maybe it’d be helpful for Poe to know where he’s coming from?

Or maybe he’s just being dramatic.  
Yeah, probably that.  
He clears his throat. “Yeah, I, uh. I’m fine.”  
Poe doesn’t seem convinced. “You sure?”

Finn falters. “Yeah, just…um…I was just remembering something.”  
Poe nods slowly. “Okay…”  
He trails off but doesn’t press, for which Finn is grateful.

Although, maybe that’s actually worse. Because now, instead of feeling annoyed that Poe was prying into his personal life, he’s feeling guilty for being responsible for the very unsure and still-worried look on the other man’s face.

He chews on his lip, mulling over what words to use next. “I just, I was wondering…how serious you are? About…this.” He makes a vague motion, meant to encompass the idea of _them.  
_  
Poe’s gaze is steady. “I’m very serious.”  
The younger man blinks. “You are?”  
If a smirk could be gentle, Poe’s would be. “Finn, when are you gonna start believing that I’m crazy about you?”

Finn laughs a bit awkwardly. He hadn’t been expecting an answer like that; to be honest, he’s a little overwhelmed. “Well…I think you might understand my hesitation after I share some things.”  
“Sure," the man affirms, nodding. "You wanna do that now or later?”

Finn hums in thought. He’s a man of aesthetics; he’d rather spill the tea looking out at a lush, green park than a brick building and a fire hydrant.  
“Let’s find a spot to chill, and then we can talk about it.”

Poe doesn’t question him, doesn’t ask if he’s sure, just says “sounds good” and moves on with the conversation.  
“Ever been to Endor Park?”  
“No, but I’ve heard of it.”

The driver smiles. “Used to go there all the time as a kid. There are tons of crabapple trees — should be blooming now. It’s really pretty.”  
Finn’s mouth quirks up at the corners. “Sounds perfect.”

The cashier picks up his phone and starts scrolling through his music library. “You like Nina Simone?” he asks.  
The younger of the two blinks in surprise. “Yeah, I do.”  
“Erroll Garner?”  
“Absolutely.”  
“Jazz and soul in general?”  
“Is that even a question?”

Finn’s grinning wide now; Poe _would_ like his favorite music era.  
The man’s eyes are dancing. “Cool. Let’s roll.” He pushes play, and they're off.

***

The park isn’t very far, maybe fifteen minutes or so. Per Poe’s prediction, the crabapples are in full bloom — vibrant magentas, pastel pinks, and pristine whites.  
It’s absolutely lovely.

As soon as Poe turns the car off and they’ve gotten settled, Finn begins his story. “Her name was Phasma; met her my freshman year of college. She was a senior at the conservatory.”

Finn’s eyes drop down to his lap as he continues. “We were never _actually_ together, we just…” He bites his lip in thought. “You know, I don’t really know what we were. Only lasted for like, nine months, maybe… Anyway, she lied a lot. Led me on; ma- …manipulated me.”

For whatever reason, that’s always been the hardest part to admit. “Took me awhile to realize what she was doing, and even longer to accept it.”

He pauses for a moment. “Anyway, I haven’t dated anyone since and that was like, four years ago, so. Think that pretty much sums it up… Maybe it’s a bit heavy for a first date—”  
“If you’re going to apologize, then don’t. You do whatever you need to do to feel safe; that’s all I care about.”

Finn is speechless. Poe seems to get more and more perfect with every passing moment; if all of this turns out to be another spectacular lie, Finn doesn’t think he’ll survive.

A few minutes pass in silence, then Poe speaks again. “So, what do you need from me?”  
Finn blinks; he’s a bit caught off-guard by that question. “Um. Honestly, I don’t know?”  
The smile Poe gives him is gentle. “That’s okay. Just let me know if you think of something.”

Finn flashes his own (albeit more timid) smile. “Yeah, I will…" He expels a breath. "Can we talk about something else now?”  
Poe chuckles. “Of course,” he acquiesces, smile turning soft at the corners.

Finn takes a sip of his drink and glances out the window at the misty softness surrounding them: the exploding colors of the crabapple blossoms, the glistening emerald grass…  
It’s idyllic, blissful.

Poe takes another sip of his coffee, then breaks the silence. “When I was little, my mom had a fairy garden—”  
“What’s a fairy garden?”

Poe smiles shyly. “You know, like a little garden with like— tiny chairs, and houses, and toadstools, and shit. For the fairies.”  
“The fairies?” Finn’s full-out grinning now, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. _Is this guy for real?_

"Shut up," he retorts. There's no heat in it, though, and Finn can see that his teeth are showing (as well as the tell-tale trace of pink in his cheeks, which Finn finds delightful).

“ _Anyway._ She used to drag my sister and me outside after it rained — said that was one of the best times to find fairies.”  
“And you believed her?” Finn asks; not in a mean way, just curiously.  
“Well, I mean…you believed in the Tooth Fairy, right?”  
“Touché.”

“My mother believed there was magic in everything. She was the kind of mom who ran around catching fireflies with us, or left out plates of fruit for wood sprites and stuff like that. Jack Frost, the Tooth Fairy, the Sandman…”  
Finn hummed in interest. “Do you think she really believed in them?”

Poe’s brow furrows in thought. “You know, I don’t know. She…she had a hard life, growing up. I think she knew that they weren’t real, but chose to believe in them anyway just to make her life — and ours — more joyful. I think it was a way to make up for all the pain that she felt as a kid.”

Finn nodded in understanding. Although, he did have one question… “Why is after it rains a good time to find fairies?”  
Poe chuckled. “Because fairies are even more playful than humans — they can’t help jumping in a good puddle. Or at least, that’s what my mom used to say.”

Poe’s smile turned nostalgic as he gazed out the front windshield. “She also used to say that if you were fast enough and could sprinkle salt on a bunny’s tail, you’d be able to catch it.”  
Finn laughs, hard; he thinks that may be the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.

Poe's laughing, too, a new kind of joyful energy taking over as he relives his childhood. “She and my dad used to sit on the deck watching my sister and me running around the backyard with salt shakers in our hands. We never understood why they were always laughing so hard.”

Seconds pass as the laughter dies down. Poe’s still smiling, but it’s sad now; Finn’s stomach twists.  
Somehow, he knows this story doesn’t have a happy ending.

Poe confirms it in the next breath. “She died when I was thirteen. Lymphoma.”  
Finn waits a beat out of respect for Poe, but there’s no hesitation as he shares this next bit. “I lost my best friend in a car crash my sophomore year of college.”

He doesn’t talk about Jannah often. In the months after the crash, Finn’s grief had been crippling. As time went on, he'd learned how to remember her without needing to cry every time. But even now, four years later, there are moments when it still catches up to him.

Their eyes meet, unspoken emotion brimming between them.  
There are no apologies.  
No attempts to lighten the weight of things.  
Just an unspoken understanding of a pain that will never quite heal.

And then there’s a clap of thunder — a massive, booming sound that rumbles through the car — and they startle. Their heads whip around to stare wide-eyed at the now-pelting rain as their hearts rabbit in their chests.

When the thunder settles, Poe meets his gaze and starts laughing. Finn’s own laugh starts as a relieved exhale, but quickly picks up to match Poe’s, until they’re both clutching at their sides and gasping for breath.

“Hell of a first date,” he jokes, still a bit breathless.  
Poe grins. “You could say that.” A beat of silence, and then, “Think you could go for another?”

Finn rolls his lips inward as he attempts to temper the exhilarated noises trying to bubble up his throat.  
_Yes,_ he thinks. _Yes, please._

But he doesn’t wanna seem too eager, so he just shrugs nonchalantly.  
“Maybe,” he says. “If you’re lucky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all I swear, I did _not_ plan for any of these feelings to happen. There I was, minding my own business and writing all sorts of fluffy sweetness when BAM! feelings come rolling out of nowhere and now here we are. Again though, don’t worry. I would never leave our boys with anything less than the happiest of endings, so just stick with me, yeah?
> 
> Also, as I may have mentioned before, I’ve let Finn and Poe be a little loose with the social distancing guidelines because it’s a) easier to work with, and b) more fun for them. ;) Just a friendly reminder tho: in the real world, those safety guidelines are REALLY important, so let’s protect others and ourselves. <3 Hope y’all have a good week!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn gets a text from an unknown number.
> 
> Shenanigans ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo people! I’m back from the dead with more fun and merriment! So sorry for the delay, had a bit of writer’s block these past few weeks. But thank God, that’s over and done with, so now we can get back to the good stuff…
> 
> We’re picking up right where we left off, aka just after FinnPoe’s first date. *squeal*
> 
> Chapter 8, let’s go!

“So, how’d it go?” Rey asks the second his foot crosses the threshold.  
Finn’s trying to rein in the rampant emotion bubbling inside his chest, but his face breaks out in a grin anyway. “It was really good.”

He feels fit to burst, he’s so happy. He’s smiling so hard it hurts, and his eyes are little half-moons, peeking over the tops of his cheeks.

Rey is ecstatic. “Really?!”  
“Yeah,” he answered — calm but no less giddy — as Rey grabbed his hand and dragged him over to the couch.  
“Tell me everything,” she urged.

Finn took a deep breath in an attempt to gather his thoughts. “Okay, well—”  
“Wait!” his sister interrupted. “I’ll make tea!”  
She jumped up and ran into the kitchen as her brother laughed, shaking his head. “You and your tea.”  
  
“Shush.” She opened the cupboard next to the sink, revealing their overflowing tea stash. “I’m assuming you want Bramblewine, yeah?”  
Finn gave her a cheesy grin. “You know me so well,” he affirmed.

Finn had five different kinds of preferred tea that corresponded with different moods:

  * Bramblewine — his daily tea (aka his favorite tea)
  * Passion — for when he needed a little kick
  * Constant Comet — for nostalgia
  * Lemon — for relaxing/calming him down
  * And finally, Peppermint — for his migraines



The latter had been one of his routine coping strategies since being diagnosed with chronic migraines almost three years ago. They hadn’t been giving him much trouble recently, but he hadn’t been able to see his chiropractor for awhile due to the pandemic, and he was expecting them to turn up sooner or later.

Typically, as long as he got adjusted at least once every 2-3 months, they were minor and/or sporadic (although there were certain triggers that could make them more frequent). However, going longer than that usually meant dealing with them on a daily basis — there’d been some particularly bad months when he’d had them almost 24/7.

It’d been almost four months since his last appointment — so far he’d been fine, but Finn knew it was unusual to go this long without having any trouble.

It was only a matter of time.

A few minutes later, Rey plops back down onto the couch, a steaming hot mug in each hand.  
“Right,” she begins, handing Finn his tea, “first date, dirty details, go.”  
Finn rolls his eyes. “There were no _dirty_ details.”  
“Why am I not surprised?” Rey mumbles into her tea (chamomile, in case anyone’s wondering).

Her brother glares. “Not that it _matters_ , since there’s nothing _wrong_ with not putting out on the first date—”  
“ _I’m teasing—_ ”  
“Do you wanna hear about this date or not?” he grumps impatiently.  
“Yes!” she responds quickly.  
“Then please, do shut up.”

***

Finn’s in the middle of washing the dishes (yes, they _do_ own a dishwasher, he just _likes_ handwashing) when his phone chimes with an incoming text.

> **From Unknown:**
> 
> Is this Finn?

Finn's brow wrinkles in bewilderment. He finishes rinsing the plate he’s holding, then dries his hands off and picks up his phone to answer.

> **To Unknown:**
> 
> Um. Yes.
> 
> Who is this?

He sets the phone back down on the counter, then does the rest of the dishes. When he’s finished, there’s another text waiting for him.

> **From Unknown:**
> 
> Bianca Dameron
> 
> Poe's favorite sister

Oh, Christ.

> **To Unknown:**
> 
> I thought he only had one sister?
> 
> **From Unknown:**
> 
> He does…?
> 
> **To Unknown:**
> 
> So how can you be the favorite if there’s only one of you?

There’s a slight pause before she responds.

> **From Unknown:**
> 
> Omg
> 
> Poe *would* like you

Finn doesn’t know what to say to that.

He’s thinking about how weird this whole thing is — while also wondering how she’d acquired his number in the first place — when Rey comes up behind him, sees the words “Poe’s sister,” and snatches the phone from his grasp.

“ _DUDE!_ ” he yells in protest.  
Rey merely cackles as she bolts for the stairs.

Upon reaching the top, she beelines for the bathroom (her brother’s not far behind, she can hear his feet pounding up the last of the stairs) and, once safe inside, locks the door. Finn comes to a stop just outside, whining for Rey to give his phone back.

“I would not relinquish this opportunity if you _paid_ me,” she announces through the door, fingers flying over the keyboard and hitting send on her illicit message.

> **To Unknown:**
> 
> Hi this is Finn’s favorite sister Rey

“You’re _such_ an ass,” he says, huffing out an exasperated breath as Rey snickers.  
Seconds later, a reply comes in.

> **From Unknown:**
> 
> JACKPOT

#####  *******

Finn’s eyes are shooting daggers from across the living room. “Must you text each other? I haven’t even _met_ her yet,” he protests, in reference to the fact that Rey and Bianca had been texting almost non-stop since yesterday afternoon.

After swiping his phone, Rey had been sure to save the other girl’s number for her own personal use before returning it to Finn. As a result, the two had been texting back and forth (undoubtedly planning his demise) as if they’d been best friends their entire lives.

Finn was not amused.

“Finn,” she says, glancing at him and resuming the conversation, “this is not a Jane Austen novel wherein I must wait for the men in my family to introduce themselves to new society before I’m allowed to do so myself. I am a modern woman — I shall do as I please.”

He rolls his eyes.

From her place atop the back of the sofa, Calliope decides she’s had enough of gazing down at Finn and promptly dismounts, landing smack in the middle of his chest. He splutters in surprise as her fluffy tail tickles his nose. He swats at it with the back of his hand, only for her to swing it right back.

“Okay, but you’re not talking about me or Poe, right?” he asks, craning his neck back so as to be heard around the fur trying to take up residence in his mouth.  
Rey chortled. “Oh Finn, darling, you naïve little thing.”

Finn grumbles to himself, once again swiping at Calliope’s tail as he brings his phone up to his face.

> **To Poe:**
> 
> This needs to stop.
> 
> **From Poe:**
> 
> what does?
> 
> **To Poe:**
> 
> This thing between our sisters.
> 
> **From Poe:**
> 
> oh i know
> 
> BB won’t shut up about it
> 
> keeps saying she and Rey are soulmates, blah blah blah
> 
> **To Poe:**
> 
> BB?
> 
> **From Poe:**
> 
> yeah her middle name is Bey, it was my mom's maiden name
> 
> her jersey number for sports was always 8 so sometimes we call her BB-8
> 
> **To Poe:**
> 
> That’s adorable.
> 
> Also, how did she get my number in the first place?
> 
> **From Poe:**
> 
> i left my phone on the counter and she hacked it
> 
> i had no idea she knew my password
> 
> **To Poe:**
> 
> NICE
> 
> Wonder how many secrets she knows xD
> 
> **From Poe:**
> 
> probably all of them lol
> 
> **To Poe:**
> 
> RIP

He set his phone down after sending the last text, content to just laze on the sofa as the afternoon sun streamed through the window. Combined with the fact that Calliope had finally swished her tail out of the way — allowing for him to breath — it made for the perfect napping situation…

Until his phone started ringing.  
  
“Hello?” Finn answered.  
“Hey, I have a question,” Poe states from the other end.  
“Yeah?”  
“I thought you said I was the first person to ask for your number?”

Finn blinked. “You are.”  
“So what about Phasma?”  
Ah. Yes. He could see why that would be confusing. “She never asked for my number — she just used Messenger.”

There was a slight pause — wherein Finn wondered why the man had bothered to _call him_ about this — before Poe finally answered. “Are you serious?”  
“Uh. Yep.”  
  
Another pause. “I can’t decide whether I’m furious or just…no, scratch that, I’m mad.”  
Finn’s brow furrowed. “Why?”  
“Because if you like someone enough to pursue a relationship with them, you should damn well have the balls to ask for their number.”

Finn blinked, surprised by the vehemence in the other’s tone. “Oh. Well, turns out she _didn’t_ want a relationship with me anyway, so it doesn’t really matter.”  
“Of course it matters. You deserve more than that.”  
Finn’s a bit dumbfounded by that response. “Oh. Thanks?”

On the other end of the line, Poe chuckles. “No need to thank me, I’m just telling it like it is.” There’s a slightly awkward silence before Poe clears his throat. “Anyway. Free for a little something on Saturday?”

Finn’s mouth stretches in a slow grin. “A little something?” he quotes.  
“Yeah,” Poe answers, sounding smug.  
“Such as…?”  
“Oh, I don’t know. Dinner and a show?”  
“Hm…I could get on board with that.”  
“My place? 6:00?”  
“Perfect.”

As soon as they hang up, Rey’s asking questions. “Was that Poe?”  
“Yep.”  
“What was that about Phasma?”  
Finn shrugged. “Just a clarifying question.”  
“Everything okay?”  
“I mean, he asked me on another date—”  
“ _HE WHAT?!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short little thing, but I wanted to give you guys something to go on since it’s been so long. I am currently residing in a little cabin in the woods for the next ten days and I have Big Plans as far as this story is concerned.
> 
> Nothing like a woodsy retreat to get the creative writing juices flowing <3
> 
> Stay tuned!
> 
> P.S. I’m totally basing Finn’s migraines off of my own journey. To anyone out there who can relate: keep on keepin’ on, don’t let the pain keep you down <3
> 
> P.P.S. What do y’all think about the way I worked in BB-8’s character? ;)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn goes over to Poe's apartment for Date #2.
> 
> Enter bilingual Poe, a crap-ton of vintage vibes, and some fierce flirtation.
> 
> *Warning: here lies the fluffiest of fluff. Side-affects may include constricting of the chest, swelling of the heart, temporary inability to breathe, and intense urges to squeal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all are ooey and gooey already, I can tell, so let's just cut to the chase...
> 
> Chapter 9! Enjoy!

Poe’s apartment smells amazing.

Finn hauls in deep breaths as he toes his shoes off in the entryway.  
Chicken — that’s the first thing he smells. He inhales again, and this time there’s more to it: some spices, maybe garlic?

“Can I get you a drink?” Poe asks, glancing over his shoulder as he walks back into the kitchen.  
“Yes, please,” Finn answers.

Poe opens the fridge and cocks a hip. “I have beer, soda, water, of course…” he trails off, rummaging around at the back of the fridge.

Finn is absolutely NOT staring at his ass.  
He’s not.

“Oh! And a bottle of white Zin, forgot about that,” Poe reports, pulling the wine bottle out and offering it to his guest.  
After reading the label, Finn decides it’ll do just fine. “I’ll take the wine, please,” he says, handing it back to Poe.

As he waits for his drink, Finn takes in the rest of the apartment. Between Poe’s car and his taste in music, Finn had gathered that he was a bit of an old soul.

But if he’d ever had any doubt, the man’s apartment would’ve confirmed it.

It’s small — though not cramped — with exposed brick and a rustic, vintage-y feel to it. Across from the mahogany leather couch there’s a low bookshelf, with an old typewriter sitting atop one end and an equally old radio at the opposite end. Finn smiles as he takes in the very modern TV sitting between the two antiques; it’s juxtaposing, yet kind of amusing.

The coffee table is an old steamer trunk with brass fittings, and the walls are covered in photographs. Most of them are slightly fuzzy and faded — depicting a world from a different time — and the edges are worn from years of being handled and flipped through. But there’s one in particular that catches Finn’s eye…

The photo is located near the center of the wall above the couch. Two towering structures fill the background, cylindrical and industrial-looking (Finn thinks they’re silos). In the foreground, on the left side of the photo, stands a man who seems to be in his early thirties. His eyes are stern, but kind; despite the beard covering his face, Finn can see the corners of his mouth are tipped up in a smile.

His gaze is held by the woman next to him. She’s beautiful, and clearly Poe’s mother — she’s got the same wild curls and daring glint in her eyes. It seems only natural that the man would be Poe’s father. Finn’s only seen one other man hold that much emotion in a single look: his own father, when he looked at his mother.

The far end of the apartment is made up of windows, with a cushioned bench running the entire length of the wall. Situated in front of the middle window is a record player, and the cubbies below the bench are filled with vinyl records and old books.

Actually, there are books all over the place — crammed onto shelves, piled up on the coffee table, stacked on the floor; J.D. Salinger, E.E. Cummings, Jane Austen, Alice Walker. Finn bends over to peer at one stack in particular: an obscure Polish anthology (translated, of course, but still), a collection of feminist essays…hell, there’s even _Spanish_ —

Wait. Now that Finn’s paying attention, there’s actually a lot of Spanish around the apartment. Spanish poets, Spanish albums, Spanish notes scribbled on random pieces of paper…

“Are you bilingual?” Finn blurts out, turning to face Poe where he stood at the counter pouring drinks.  
  
The man chuckled. “What gave it away?”  
“Pretty sure non-Spanish speakers don’t have legal pads with Spanish _notes_ on them,” he teased.  
Poe grins. “I guess you’re right.”

He hands Finn a wine glass before continuing. “My parents are both Hispanic. Grew up speaking Spanish at home and English at school, so I’m fluent in both.”  
Finn hummed. “I’m guessing reading was also a big part of your childhood.”

A smirk. “Yeah, you could say that.”  
“And the records?”  
“My parents loved the classics.”  
Finn nodded at the well-stocked cubbies below the windows. “May I?”  
Poe’s smile was as gorgeous as ever. “Be my guest, darlin’.”

Finn strode over to the middle section of cubbies — ignoring how gooey the endearment had made him — and squatted, squinting at the various titles. _Miles Davis, Doris Day, Ella Fitzgerald… Ah. Bingo._

He pulls out one of the Etta James records and carefully places it on the player. He brings the needle over, gently setting it atop the vinyl, and within seconds it crackles to life.

The opening notes of _Anything to Say You’re Mine_ float into the kitchen as Finn takes a sip of his wine, walking over to join Poe at the stove.  
“What’s in the pot?”  
His host smiles. “Ever had _pozole_?”  
“Uh, no.”  
“It’s a cultural dish, something my parents grew up eating — my dad used to make it for BB and me a lot.”

Finn stares down into the pot. “So, it’s a soup.”  
“Yeah. It’s got chicken, hominy, white rice, onion, and a few spices. Then you slice up an avocado and throw that on top with some _cilantro_ and lime juice.”  
“That sounds amazing.”  
Poe smiled. “Yeah. It’s pretty good stuff.”

Finn took another sip of wine, then cleared his throat. “Do you, uh. D’you need any help?”  
“If you wanna get the silverware, you can,” he replied, pointing to a drawer.

As Finn walked over to set the table, he noticed a guitar with geometric detailing propped up in the corner. “You play?” he asked, surprised (although maybe he shouldn’t have been; this was Poe, after all — the man with a frickin’ _steamer trunk_ across from his _typewriter_ and _antique radio_ ).

The man gave him a somewhat bashful smile. “Uhm. Yeah. Yeah, I play a little bit.”  
 _Bet,_ Finn thought. _He’s probably a damn prodigy.  
_ Clearly, he needed to do some fact-checking.

> **To Bianca:**
> 
> Poe says he plays guitar “a little bit.”
> 
> Is that accurate?
> 
> **From Bianca:**
> 
> *Snorrrrrrrt*
> 
> A little bit, my ass
> 
> Tell him to stop being modest

Feeling smug, he shows the messages to Poe. “Try again,” he teases.  
Poe just laughs, big and bright and beautiful.  
“I think a demonstration is in order,” Finn declares, grinning. “After all, you said ‘dinner and a show’, and so far all I see is dinner.”

Poe’s eyebrows shot up; he wasn’t used to Finn sassing him. “So, you _can_ flirt.”  
Finn snorted. “I’m not stupid.”  
A wolfish grin. “No, but I gotta tell ya, doll: you sure get shy when I say nice things to you.”  
Finn kind of hates him a bit. “You suck.”

The man hums in thought. “Tal vez sería mejor en español.”  
 _Holy shit.  
_ He blinks, trying to get his brain back online. “I don’t know what you just said, but it sounded pretty hot, not gonna lie.”

Poe throws his head back with another loud laugh. “You’re adorable, you know that?” he states, still chuckling.  
Finn just blinks again. “Um.”

***

After consuming Poe’s ethnic masterpiece known as _pozole_ , the two move to the couch to watch some _My Hero_ (because they’re nerds). It is during said watching that something remarkable happens…

Poe had taken up residence in the corner spot nearest the window, leaving Finn in the agonizing position of having to decide between the middle cushion (right next to Poe) and the opposite end of the couch (where it was undoubtedly safer).

Let it not be said that Finn is a chicken.

As he takes his seat on the middle cushion, Poe queues up the show on Hulu, eventually tossing the remote onto the coffee table and settling back into the cushions.  
Finn is suddenly bulldozed with the desire to snuggle him.

 _What the fuck,_ **_stop that_** _._

News flash: it doesn’t stop.  
In fact, it gets worse.

Because now Finn’s thinking about what it would be like to curl up around him like an octopus, face pressed to his chest and one leg thrown over Poe’s in a totally non-sexual fashion (honest to God — the visions fluffing around his head right now are so sugary sweet his teeth are rotting). He imagines nosing into the curls behind Poe’s ear, breathing deeply and releasing softly and reveling in the simple reality of The Two of Them.

He’s imagining all this while staring at the TV — completely zoned out as he pretended to watch something explode for the millionth time — when suddenly his reverie is broken by an odd tickling sensation on his hand.

Finn looks down to the sight of the other man’s index finger sweeping over the back of his hand where it rested between them. As his skin buzzes with the repeated sensation, he finds himself captivated by the contrast of their skin tones: sandy cream-and-coffee against rich, dark cocoa.

In an attempt to give some sort of acknowledgement, Finn scoots his hand a tiny bit closer to Poe. For a split second the sweeping halts, then continues as if it’d never stopped.

As Finn lets some of the tension bleed from his body, he brings his socked feet up to rest atop the coffee table, letting them knock gently against Poe’s.

They stay there for the rest of the night.

***

Well okay, not the _rest_ of the night.

Finn’s still not willing to put out (which is _fine_ because there is _never_ a need to rush into something you’re not ready for), so he does eventually go home…

After three hours of cartoons.

At the end of the night, Poe insists on walking Finn out to his car, and Finn doesn’t argue; it gave him a few extra minutes with Poe, which in his book counted as a win.

Finn had just opened the car door and was about to get in when he was detained by Poe tugging on his hand.  
He glanced up questioningly as the man cleared his throat.  
“I had a great time tonight,” Poe said, smiling softly.  
Finn beamed. “I did, too.”

Poe’s face brightened, eyebrows quirking up with excitement. “Yeah?”  
“Yeah.”  
His smile turned radiant, as if someone had lifted a veil to reveal its full light. “Good.”

Seconds passed, until Finn’s mouth curled in a smirk. “Maybe next time you can serenade me.”  
“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Poe teases, eyebrows now fully raised.

Finn laughs. “Yeah, yeah I would.”  
“Mmm. We’ll see. No promises.”  
“What, am I not pretty enough to be serenaded?”  
“Oh, you’re plenty pretty, sweetheart,” he affirms, mouth stretching in a grin as he sweeps his eyes over Finn.

Despite the blatant flirtatiousness of it all, Finn feels something in him melt.  
Sure, Poe was a bit of a rogue. But despite the rakish, slightly bad-boy vibe, Finn knew that beneath the surface was a depth of character that was rare. He’d seen the kindness, the instinctual desire to _defend_ and _protect…_

He knew this man was different.  
And he wanted more.

In an uncharacteristic moment of boldness, Finn darts forward, placing a soft kiss on the man’s cheek.  
Poe blinks in astonishment. Before he can recover, Finn takes a step back and slips behind the wheel of the car.

The sound of the door closing shakes Poe from his daze. “Wait!”  
Finn grins and rolls down the window. “Don’t worry,” he replies. “You can kiss me back next time.”  
The mischievous grin is back, full of Poe’s usual swagger. “Believe me, darlin’ — I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nice little cliffhanger for you guys ;)
> 
> Also, I have VISUALS for y'all!
> 
>   * [Poe's apartment](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/8a/d6/70/8ad67078a298a5c7f64bf79f24d1cb4e.jpg) (obviously the decor is a bit different but the general layout is the same) 
>   * [ Poe's guitar](https://www.guitarfromspain.com/1342-thickbox_01resp/camps-sn1-electro-classical-guitar.jpg) (closeup of the [detailing](https://www.guitarfromspain.com/1345-thickbox_01resp/camps-sn1-electro-classical-guitar.jpg)) 
>   * [Poe's car](https://www.hotrodhotline.com/forsale/vehicles/ford/thunderbird/1956/listing/105641)
>   * Finn and Rey's cat, [Calliope](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/7/7b/Norwegian_Forest_Cat_in_snow_%28closeup%29.jpg/1200px-Norwegian_Forest_Cat_in_snow_%28closeup%29.jpg)
> 

> 
> Final note: As you can tell, we're starting to see some personality shifts as the boys get to know each other better. I hope things don't seem out of character for them (aka soft!Poe and flirty!Finn), but I wanted to capture the complexity of the human character and how different people can bring out different sides of us once we start to form deeper relationships.
> 
> That's all I've got for today, hope you guys liked it! As always, keep staying safe and healthy out there <3  
> 
> 
> Oh, P.S. how would y'all feel about switching over to Poe's POV for a bit, like a chapter or maybe just part of one? Let me know what you guys think!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A peek into the Dameron family's weekly dinner...
> 
> aka Kes and BB go on a walk and have a little chat about Poe while he cooks dinner for them, and Finn continues to melt Poe's heart with his everything.
> 
> (Will there also be a First Kiss? Who knows...)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy August, lovelies!
> 
> As I mentioned in my notes last time, I was giving thought to exploring things from Poe's side aaaaaand... here it is!
> 
> Side note: I debated including in-text translations for the non-Spanish speakers, but felt like it kind of interrupted the flow a bit. So if y'all don't speak Spanish, head down to the endnotes, I've included translations there!
> 
> Also, thanks to everyone who's left comments/kudos so far! I try to respond to every comment at least once, but sometimes I miss one so I wanted to share my appreciation en masse here <3 It really is helpful and encouraging to read your feedback, so keep it coming!

Kes Dameron was a quiet man. Always had been. He’d heard plenty about how different he was from his wife, who in many ways had been the complete opposite of him.

If Kes was a steady flame, flickering quietly in the night, then Shara had been a firework…  
One of the screaming ones.

She was a daredevil — boisterous, fearless… And so goddamn beautiful, like dew in a spiderweb or a tangerine sunset.  
She was a force to be reckoned with, while Kes was just the quiet guy thinking in the corner.

But while Shara had learned to command an audience, Kes had learned how to listen.  
And it had served him well.

As a young man struggling to find his place in the world, he’d often been discouraged by his perceived mediocrity. When he joined the military, his confidence plummeted even more. He wasn’t particularly fast — nor could he run very far without wanting to collapse — and while he _was_ decently strong, it wasn’t in a way that set him apart.

He was the awkward guy who’d spent his spare time in high school tinkering with computers; the only reason he’d joined the military in the first place was because his mom was a drunk and his dad wasn’t around to convince him otherwise.

On one very memorable afternoon during his time in basic, he remembered Shara finding him moping in the mess hall after a particularly grueling drill.

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” she’d said firmly (yet not unkindly). “So what if you’re not a fighter, or your endurance is shit? Find what you _are_ good at and become the best at it.”

So, he had. He learned to listen, to gather intel; to remember maps and dates and names. But there’d been one night in particular when his listening had been crucial…

Kes had sat at the bar by himself that night, slowly drinking his beer. He’d watched for over an hour as Shara was approached by man after man (and one woman), and as she sent them all packing with a cold grin and a cutting retort (except for the woman — she’d actually flirted with her a bit).

As he sat listening from his spot nearby, he figured out what worked for her and what didn’t — what lines made her laugh and which ones she scoffed at — all the while laying the foundation for his own approach.

He listened. And he waited. And eventually, a few months later, his efforts paid off.  
The rest was history.

And now, as Kes sat in his armchair — pretending to read a book while secretly watching his son move around the kitchen — he thanked both Shara and his military training for the advantages they’d given him.

Because something about Poe was different, and thanks to the aforementioned parties, Kes had noticed.

He’d noticed the vibrant energy that now imbued his son, the buoyant attitude that hadn’t appeared until very recently. Gone were the drawn and tired eyes, as well as the lack of enthusiasm that had been so prevalent over the past several months.

And what the fuck, was he _humming?_

“Bianca,” he called out to his youngest, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor reading a dense-looking history book.  
“Yeah?” she answered, eyes glued to her page.  
“Come take a walk with me.”  
“Why?”  
“I said: come take a walk with me.”

His tone brooked no argument as he rose from his chair, carefully setting aside his own book and placing his glasses atop it.  
BB finally looked up, one brow slightly raised. “Um. Okay.”

Hearing someone making their way past the kitchen, Poe threw a glance over his shoulder. “Going somewhere, Pops?”  
“Just taking your sister out for some fresh air.”  
“I’m not a dog, you know!” she yelled indignantly.

Poe ignored her, eyebrows creasing in concern. “You okay?”  
“I will be, soon as you finally get that damned food on the table.”  
An eye roll. “Gee, I’m sorry I actually like to _cook_ my meat, you know, to avoid all that salmonella and crap.”

Kes waved a hand in dismissal. “I eat cookie dough for breakfast and I haven’t died yet.”  
His son mumbled a response under his breath, but Kes paid him no mind.

“Bianca!” he called out as he headed for the front door. Her reply was something snarky, he was sure; but by that point he was stepping out into the late evening sun, and he found he really didn’t care.

***

“So what’s up, old man?” BB asked as they strolled down the block.  
“First off,” her father began in a stern tone, “it’s _Dad_ to you.”  
She rolled her eyes. “Okay fine, _Dad_ , but I _am_ an adult now and you’re gonna have to come to terms with old age at some point.”

Kes stopped walking and fixed her with a flat look. “You’re nineteen — not being a minor is not the same thing as being an adult.”

He resumed walking, a small grin taking over his features. “As for the other matter…I’ll come to terms with it when I’m dead.”  
“ _Dad!_ ”  
The older man arched a brow at his daughter. “What?”  
“You can’t just _say_ stuff like that!”  
“I think I just did.”

BB gave an exasperated sigh. “Whatever. Did you wanna talk about something or what?”  
The elder cleared his throat. "What’s up with your brother?”

She blinked. “What do you mean?” she asked, the tell-tale signs of a grin beginning to take shape. She had an inkling of what her dad was referring to, but wanted to hear his first impression before giving any details.

Kes gave her an unimpressed look. “You really haven’t noticed a difference?” Catching sight of the growing smirk on his daughter’s face, he tilted his head. “You know something.”

The smirk turned into a full-blown grin. “I do.”  
“C’mon, tell your” — here he used air quotes — “‘old man’ what’s made our Poe so happy.”  
  
The girl’s eyes danced. “He met someone.”  
Kes pulled up short. “Really?” he asked softly, eyes brimming with hope.  
“Yes,” BB squealed, bordering on giddy.

The elder’s face was radiant as he began to laugh joyously. “¡No me digas!” he exclaimed, brain switching over to his native tongue. “¿Cómo sucedió eso?”  
“En el mercado, de todos los lugares.”

Kes laughed again. “Of course he met him at work. Where else?” His laughter died down, but his smile was no less wide. “What’s his name?”  
“Finn. I haven’t met him yet, but we’ve texted a few times and Poe never shuts up about him.”

“This is wonderful. Really, really wonderful.”  
“Yeah…” BB trailed off, a gentle smile softening her face at the thought of her brother. “He’s happy, Dad. He’s really happy. He keeps gushing about how adorable he is, and how kind he is…”

Her brow furrows as she remembers what life with her brother had been like not that long ago. “I was worried for awhile. I mean, you know how he’s been.”

Kes nodded. It was true — for the past several months, it’d been obvious to both of them that Poe was going through a rough patch. Ever since losing his engineering job, his usual playfulness had dimmed, the mischievous streak only making an appearance on rare occasions.

When Zorii had offered him the job at Millennium, Poe hadn’t exactly been thrilled — coming from a top-tier engineering job, stocking groceries wasn't what he wanted to be doing.  
But Kes had hounded him for weeks (“You need _something_. You need to get out of that damned apartment, move on with your life.”) and finally, he’d relented.

The first few months saw little change: he was still far too quiet, and while he made attempts at his usual humor, there was no spark in his eyes. Kes and BB knew that he was trying, making an effort to seem happy for them…

It just wasn't the Poe they’d known and loved for so many years.

But then Poe started coming home with stories of a nice guy who’d been frequenting the market; of sweet smiles and doe-eyes; of a man so painfully shy, Poe was worried he’d scare him off.

And yet, amidst all of the pining and anecdotes about a man who bought far too many eggs, what most stuck out to BB was the fact that her brother was no longer slumped on his sofa, gazing off into the distance every time she visited.

“Vamos,” her father said to her now, turning back towards the house. “Dinner’s probably almost ready, and besides — I want to interrogate my son.”

***

Poe stood in the kitchen, hands on his hips and working his jaw as he debated what to do now that dinner was ready while his family was not.

 _They’ll probably be back soon,_ he thought to himself. He switched the oven from “bake” to “warm” and let the chicken just rest. The salad he stuck in the refrigerator, along with the bottles of cider he’d pulled out.

_I’ll give ‘em five minutes before I start hollering._

As he leaned back against the counter, he felt his back pocket vibrate. He pulled his phone out, smiling at the name that had popped up on his lock screen.

> **From Finn <3:**
> 
> Is there any way I can see you this weekend?
> 
> I really miss you.

Poe felt his heart constrict. On any other occasion, he’d respond with his usual swagger — something guaranteed to make Finn blush.

But at that moment? All Poe could think about was how ridiculously _sweet_ he was, how open and honest…

He deserved more than a flirty one-liner.

> **To Finn <3:**
> 
> i miss you too
> 
> you free sunday?

As much as they’d wanted to have Date #3 (especially with Poe’s promise of a First Kiss hanging in the air), in the past couple of weeks they’d both been kind of busy. Poe had taken on more hours at Millennium in order to keep up with his (admittedly) not-cheap rent, but on a rare stroke of misfortune, Finn had yet to make an appearance for his semi-regular grocery run.

His phone buzzed again.

> **From Finn <3:**
> 
> Um…no.
> 
> Well ok, I might be?

Poe chuckled.

> **To Finn <3:**
> 
> we can pick a different day no big deal
> 
> **From Finn <3:**
> 
> Wait hold on, lemme do something quick…

Poe waited a few minutes as the grin on his face stretched wider.

> **From Finn <3:**
> 
> K I’m free now. Rey and I were gonna do something but we can do it Saturday instead.

Poe’s eyebrows scrunched. _He didn’t have to…_

He punched the call button.  
“Yeah?” came Finn’s voice.  
“You didn’t need to rearrange your schedule—”  
“No it’s okay, seriously, it’s no big deal! They were tentative plans, anyway.”

Poe doesn’t say anything; feels bad — Finn must pick up on it. “Really, it’s fine, don’t feel bad,” he assures him.  
“You sure?” Poe presses.  
“Yes. Plus…” he trails off.

“Plus?” Poe prompts, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement.  
The man hesitates. “Plus…I mean… I don’t know, man, I just wanna see you.”

His voice is shy and quiet, yet Poe can’t help the sharp grin taking over his face.  
“You just wanna kiss me.”  
“Well…yeah. Duh.”  
Poe laughs; he didn’t think Finn would come right out and say it. “Alright. Sunday, then. What time?”

“Uhmm…wanna come over in the evening? We could watch Netflix or just hang out or something. Rey won’t be here, she and Dad are gonna work on his car.”  
“Alright then. I get off work at four…I could just swing over as soon as I’m done?”  
“Sounds great.”

At this point, Poe hears the front door open and a cackling BB enter the hallway; his father’s quiet chuckling follows.

Time to go. “Alright, my fam just walked in the door, we’re gonna eat now.”  
“Oh, right, sounds good. See you on Sunday,” Finn replies, a smile in his voice.  
Poe smiles in kind. “Can’t wait.”

He hangs up, smiling to himself before locking his phone and slipping it into his pocket. Pushing off the counter, he stops short at the sight of his father and sister, both wearing shit-eating grins.

“What?” he demands, eyes narrowing warily.  
“Who was that?” Kes asks innocently.  
Poe makes an attempt at evasiveness. “A friend.”

BB snorts. “Nice try, bonehead.”  
“What?!” Poe protests. “He is!”  
“Poe,” she says, meeting his gaze dead-on. “We both know how much you wanna fuck him.”

Kes, surprisingly, busts out laughing — loud, jolly guffaws.  
Poe, for his part, is so furious he’s frozen; his eyes narrow into slits, his face caught between an expression of fury and disbelief.

His sister smirks. “Just calling it like it is.”  
Poe’s calm cracks, voice rising in volume. “Jesus, B, I’m not _playing_ him for a _lay—_ ”  
“ _Relax._ I never said you were — I’m just giving you a hard time.”  
He opened his mouth for another biting comment, but Kes intervened. “Ya, basta. A comer, vamos."

A few minutes later, once everyone’s settled with their food, Kes turns to his eldest. “Now, in all seriousness: tell me about him.”  
BB opens her mouth for something quippy, but Kes cuts her a look. “It’s not your turn,” he tells her firmly.

Turning back to Poe, he grins. “C’mon,” he urges. “Tell me about him.”  
Poe’s eyes crinkle with a soft laugh. “He, uh…he’s sweet. He’s real sweet, Pops. A little shy, but it’s kind of adorable.”

Poe takes a bite, chews, swallows — grins. “He’s got a terrible poker face. Everything he’s feeling, it’s all right there. Could read him like a book. Which…” He chews his lip in thought. “Dad, I gotta tell ya: it’s so refreshing.”  
Kes hums as he forks a bite of chicken. “How so?”

Poe takes a swig of his cider before answering. “Well, I mean you got all these girls — and the occasional guy — and they think they gotta play coy to get your attention, like it’s a game and you’re some creature they gotta lure in” — here, BB snorts — “and I’m just…I don’t wanna play games anymore. I…”

He looks out the kitchen window and sighs. “I just wanna _be_ with someone, plain and simple. No games, no guessing, no pretending…and Finn…he’s not like that.” He grins a little. “Honestly, I don’t think he even knows _how_ to do any of that shit.”

BB laughed. “Probably not.”  
“Oh, c’mon,” Kes interjected. “Give him some credit.”  
“Dad, the guy is innocent as _fuck,_ ” she stressed.  
Kes' eyes glinted mischievously. “Well — I'm sure Poe will take care of that."

Poe groaned. "You _guys_ —"

***

_A few days later…_

> **From Finn <3:**
> 
> Hey, um…
> 
> Mind if we alter the plan for tonight a bit?
> 
> **To Finn <3:**
> 
> course not whats up?
> 
> **From Finn <3:**
> 
> Um. So I have a migraine?
> 
> A really bad one.
> 
> Probably won’t be able to watch anything…
> 
> Are you ok with that? Like just hanging out on the couch or something?
> 
> **To Finn <3:**
> 
> you sure you want me over?
> 
> we can reschedule
> 
> **From Finn <3:**
> 
> Look I can either be in pain by myself or with you…
> 
> I’d rather be with you.
> 
> **To Finn <3:**
> 
> alright <3 need me to bring you anything?
> 
> **From Finn <3:**
> 
> A kiss?
> 
> **To Finn <3:**
> 
> that can be arranged ;)

***

When Finn’s door swings open later that evening, Poe has to smile — he’s sleepy-beautiful, all slow blinks and tired eyes.

Poe can tell that he’s exhausted — his energy clearly sapped from having to battle the pain all day — but his smile is still so sweet (like lollipop glaze and drizzled honey) and Poe can’t think of anything he’d rather do right now than sink into Finn’s couch and cuddle up.

“Hey,” he greets warmly.  
“Hi,” Finn rasps, clearing his throat. “C’mon in.”  
“How’s your head?” Poe inquires, slipping his shoes off and following his host into the living room.

“Hurts like a bitch,” Finn replies, collapsing onto the couch with a groan.  
Poe sits down on the edge of the cushion next to his shins. “Can I get you anything?”  
“Just hand me the ice pack on the coffee table.”

Poe scans the aforementioned table but sees no sign of an ice pack.  
“Unless your ice pack is shaped like an XBox controller, there’s nothing here.”  
Finn’s face scrunches in confusion, then clears as realization dawns. “Ohhh, shoot. I left it in the kitchen.”

“I got it.” Poe stands to retrieve the ice pack and nearly trips over the sack of fur at his feet. “What the— _Jesus,_ Calliope!” he exclaims, startled to see the cat that had suddenly materialized.  
Finn just laughs, which makes almost braining himself on the table totally worth it.

About twenty minutes' worth of small talk later, Finn tosses the now-warm ice pack onto the floor with a sigh. “Wish those lasted longer.”  
Poe looks at him thoughtfully. “Hey, sit up for a sec.”

Finn pulls his knees up to his chest and rocks upright, eyelids drooping with the effort, and Poe pats his thigh in an invitation for Finn to lay his head there. For a fraction of a second, he hesitates; then he slowly crawls across the couch, and lays his head in Poe’s lap.

Poe traces his thumb over the younger man’s brow bone, and Finn’s eyes slip shut as his body melts against the cushions beneath him. He trails his finger down the side of his face, sweeping across his cheekbone and along his jaw. Upon reaching his chin, Poe thumbs at the space just beneath his lower lip.

It’s mesmerizing — the man is achingly beautiful, all earthy skin and butterfly lashes and silk-petal mouth.  
Not for the first time, Poe wonders why someone who was a literal sunbeam would want anything to do with him.

“You’re awfully quiet,” says Finn, cracking an eye open.  
“I’m admiring the view.”  
“Oh, shut up.”  
Poe chuckles, fingers still brushing over warm skin.

There’s another quiet moment before Finn speaks up again. “I’m guessing this isn’t how you wanted your night to go.”  
Poe’s brow pinches. “Why do you say that?”

A snort. “C’mon. I’m sure there are plenty of other things you’d rather do on a date than play Pictionary with my face.”  
Poe smirks. “But it’s such a lovely face.”  
Finn rolls his eyes. “Stop. Your cheese is showing.”

Poe tosses his head back with another laugh. “You know, you’re a lot sassier now than when we first met.”  
Finn’s mouth quirked as he closed his eyes. “Guess I’m just finally getting used to the idea that you might stick around.”

Poe wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. His hand stilled over Finn’s cheek again, cradling it as his thumb rubbed circles into his temple.

After a minute or two, Finn let out a soft sigh. He turned his nose into the older man’s palm, dragged it up and down the callused skin a few times. “This is nice.”  
Poe hummed in agreement.

There was a short silence, in which the only sounds were Finn’s soft breathing and the occasional car outside, before he said, “Feel free to leave whenever you get bored.”  
Poe chuckled derisively. “Never happen,” he claimed.  
Finn snorted again. “If you say so.”

Poe was quiet, gazing at the smooth skin of Finn’s eyelids, the barely-pink of his full mouth… _  
_ _How can I make you believe me?_

In the next instant, Finn’s entire face tightened as a new wave of pain washed over him. Poe’s thumb migrated from its place at Finn’s temple to the middle of his brow, trying to massage the tension from the creases that had appeared. Once the muscles had loosened, he leaned over and pressed his lips between Finn’s eyes.

Finn gave another sharp inhale, then released it with a quiet, quivery sound. Poe’s mouth migrated down, landing in a soft pucker on the tip of his nose.

At that point, Finn surged upright (nearly knocking him in the head), twisting around to straddle Poe and kissing him full-on. His fingers flexed as they clung to the fabric on Poe’s shoulders, and he let out a shaky whimper.

Minutes passed; Poe's hands cradled the warm skin of his neck as they traded syrupy, languid kisses. He was quiet, for the most part, only emitting the occasional hum.

But Finn…  
 _Finn._

Finn was all soft sighs and breathy grunts, little scattered noises falling from his mouth like drops of rain. At one point, he broke away for air, sagging against Poe and humming happily as he buried his nose in the curls behind his ear.

Poe chuckled. “You okay there, darlin’?”  
Finn didn’t respond, just nuzzled for a second more before returning to Poe’s mouth.

After a particularly good suck on his bottom lip, Poe groaned, hands flexing where they had migrated to Finn’s hips.  
Finn broke away again. “Wait, wait,” he gasped, chest heaving a bit.

Poe gave him a few moments to catch his breath. “You alright?”  
Finn nodded. “Yeah, I, uh…I just— I…”  
The older man smiled gently. “What is it, buddy?”  
Finn huffed and looked off to the side, avoiding eye contact.

Was that…was he _blushing???_

“I just…I don’t wanna, _do_ anything…else.”  
Poe gave him a soft smirk. “You mean sex?”  
Finn was definitely blushing now. “Yeah,” he muttered, staring hard at the cushion next to them.

“Finn, there are no expectations here,” Poe assured the younger man.  
“I know,” he replied. “I just— I don’t know why I’m—”  
“You don’t owe me an explanation, either. If we’re getting someplace you don’t wanna be, just say so — no questions asked.”

“But I don’t wanna string you along, either,” Finn objected.  
Poe smirked. “Trust me — I’m perfectly happy with what we have going right now.”

The man gave him a tentative smile, which after a few seconds blossomed into his usual ray of sunshine. “Well, in that case,” he spoke softly, breath unfurling onto Poe’s mouth, “don’t mind me.”

As he felt a ghost of tongue along his bottom lip, Poe grinned.  
 _Uhuh,_ he thought to himself. **_Perfectly_ ** _happy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I might do some more of Poe's side in the future, but for now I think I'll switch back to Finn's POV...
> 
> Up next: Skywalker family shenanigans!
> 
> P.S. here are the **Spanish Translations** , as promised:
> 
>   * ¡No me digas! = used as an exclamation of surprise, such as _You don't say!_ or _No way!_
>   * ¿Cómo sucedió eso? = _How did that happen?_
>   * En el mercado, de todos los lugares. = _In the market, of all places._
>   * Vamos = _Let's go._
>   * Ya, basta. A comer, vamos. = _Stop. Let's eat._
> 



	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe meets Finn's family over dinner, Leia and Han put up with Rey's and Ben's questionable behavior, and Finn tries to survive more embarrassment at the hands of his siblings.
> 
> Also feat. Flirty Poe and some fluff — you know, the essentials.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello, hello! Happy Tuesday!
> 
> I'm realizing that I've sort of specified Finn's age and I've said that Poe's older but not much else, so here's what I'm thinking:
> 
>   * Finn's around 24 (not long out of college) 
>   * Poe is mid-twenties (like 27?) 
>   * Rey is also mid-twenties (but younger then Poe, so let's say 26) 
>   * And Ben is the oldest of the bunch, around 29
> 

> 
> The parents are like mid- to late-fifties, or something like that. Make it work however you want.
> 
> Writing scenes with the three sibs has been so much fun, so I'm excited to give you guys more of that dynamic!
> 
> Here's Chapter 11! Enjoy!

So — were they together? Weeellllll…

Honestly, Finn didn’t really know. Nothing _official_ had been verbalized, and there were no other labels floating around (such as _partner_ or _boyfriend_ ) so Finn wasn’t really sure where that left them. What he _did_ know, however, was that dates with Poe were quickly becoming his favorite pastime…so maybe they were dating?

He also knew that Poe’s kisses were dreamy ( _like the rest of him_ ), and that he seemed to have no problem giving Finn plenty of them.

But apparently the lack of an official label of any sort was not enough to do away with the Meet the Family requirement — hence, Finn’s current predicament: trying to convince his siblings to behave like normal human beings for the night.

> **To Nerfherders:**
> 
> Can you guys just _plz_ not do anything weird tonight?
> 
> **From Ben:**
> 
> You mean like tie up Prince Charming and roast him over an open flame?
> 
> **To Nerdherders:**
> 
> WTF BEN
> 
> **From Rey:**
> 
> Oh for God’s sake Finn
> 
> No need to have a cow over it
> 
> **To Nerfherders:**
> 
> Sorry I didn’t realize expressing alarm over the fact that my brother just threatened to EAT MY DATE LIKE A FUCKING CANNIBAL was overreacting… -_-
> 
> **From Ben:**
> 
> Look it’s nothing personal
> 
> He just looks so tasty and you’re CLEARLY not taking a bite of that so I might as well
> 
> It is my destiny
> 
> **To Nerfherders:**
> 
> …who says I haven’t taken a bite?
> 
> **From Rey:**
> 
> GASP
> 
> FINN
> 
> WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY SO
> 
> **To Nerfherders:**
> 
> Cuz it’s none of your damn business, that’s why.
> 
> **From Ben:**
> 
> @Rey did baby brother just admit to being sexually active?

***

To answer Ben’s question: no, not really. He’d admitted to _taking_ _a bite_ — and he’d meant that quite literally, with nothing else involved — ‘cause, well, he most certainly had, at this point.

Turns out he was quite good at biting Poe, and Finn took pride in the evidence of his handiwork currently on display along the man’s collarbones.

I mean sure, they were hidden (just barely) beneath a very nice Millennium Market polo…

But Finn knew they were there.

“Nice shirt,” he tells Poe now, shooting him a smug look from where he stood across the checkout counter.  
“Oh, thanks,” the cashier responds, somewhat sarcastically.  
“I especially like the way you’ve done up all the buttons, like some old Victorian maiden."

Poe clicks his tongue. “Yeah I’ll admit it’s not my usual style, but apparently hickeys are against the dress code here.”  
“Now you sound like a prude,” Finn teases as he grabs his grocery bags.  
“Call me up anytime, baby, and I’ll show you otherwise.”

The man gives him a wink, and god _dammit.  
_ Couldn’t Finn win just _once?_

He cleared his throat, increasingly aware of the blood rushing to his cheeks. “Right, well…on that note, I bid thee farewell.”  
“See you tonight?”  
“Yep.”

***

Han opens the door to find a man with ebony curls and a slightly nervous expression standing on his porch.

So. This must be Poe.

He pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue and crosses his arms, as if deciding whether or not to let Poe in or just shoot him on the spot.

Poe shifts uncomfortably. “Is this the Skywalker residence?”  
A pause.  
“Honey?” Han finally yells over his shoulder, never once taking his eyes off the man in front of him.

“What?” Leia calls back.  
“I’m gonna head out to the garage and clean my gun—”  
“ _DAD!!!_ ”  
“—holler if you need anything.”

He can hear Leia’s mumbled “Jesus Christ” but pays both her and his indignant son (aka Finn, who’d heard his father from inside the downstairs bathroom) no mind. He stares at Poe for another second or two, then brushes past him on his way to the garage.

Was he actually going to clean his gun? No. That was just for show.

Did he even own a gun? Also no.

Did _Poe_ need to know that? Absolutely not.

Finn comes storming out of the bathroom then, exasperation written all over his face as he ushers his guest inside.  
Poe gives him a lopsided grin. “He’s not really gonna shoot me, right?”  
Finn rolls his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous; the man hasn’t owned a gun since his tour ended thirty years ago.”

Poe perks up. "He's military?"  
"Well, former, yeah. He was a pilot."  
"Dude, no way! So was my mom."  
"Oh, really?" Finn asks with surprised interest.

They're interrupted by Rey, who at that moment descended the stairs with a grin the size of China.  
Quite honestly? It was terrifying.

“Poe, darling, how are you?” she asks cheerily.  
He gives her a polite smile. “Doing well, you?”  
“I’m great! Although, I’ll be even better once I’ve settled in with my popcorn.”

Finn raised an eyebrow. “Settled in for what?” he asks.  
“For tonight’s entertainment.”  
Poe crosses his arms. “And what entertainment would that be?” he inquires, amusement coloring his voice.

Rey’s smile was the picture of innocence. “Why, watching you _shamelessly_ flirt with my brother while he tries not to spontaneously combust—”  
“ _Rey_ —”

“Excuse me, who’s flirting with our brother?”  
“Oh, good grief _,_ ” Finn mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face as his brother came up to stand next to him.  
“Ben! Meet Finn’s new beau,” said Rey brightly.

Poe — seemingly unphased by the Overprotective Sibling routine — extended a hand. “Poe Dameron.”  
Ben gripped it tightly. “So you’re the man who’s been giving it to my brother.”  
“ _OH MY GOD, CAN WE NOT???_ ”

***

After the mortifying business that was Family Introductions, Finn dragged Poe out to the backyard to recover in peace.  
  
Thank _God_ for his mom, who — at the sound of Finn’s outburst — had come striding out of the kitchen to a) introduce herself, and b) enlist the help of the two older offspring, thereby keeping them out of Finn’s hair.

It was glorious.  
It didn’t last long.

“Time to eat, boys,” Han announced, poking his head out the back door.  
“Pretty sure we’re past boyhood, Dad,” Finn protested, standing up and offering a hand to Poe.  
“And I care why?”  
Finn grumbled out a response and led Poe back into the house.

Once inside, Poe immediately made himself useful. “Mrs. Skywalker, need a hand?”  
“Yes, actually — you can help me not feel old by not calling me Mrs. Skywalker.”

Poe tossed his head back with a laugh. “Beg your pardon, ma’am,” he replied, a twinkle in his eye.  
“Oh, for God’s sake,” she muttered. “Here.” She thrust a salad bowl into his hands and waved him off toward the dining room.

Ten minutes later they were all seated around the table, dishing up food and passing drinks around as they chatted cheerfully with one another. As the meal progressed, Finn began to relax again; maybe things would be relatively normal from here out.

Of course, he should’ve known better.

“Hey, Ben,” Rey started, getting her brother’s attention, “toss me a roll?”  
“Yeah, sure.” Reaching one long arm out in front of him, he grabbed one of the bread rolls from the basket and tossed it (literally) over to Rey at the other end of the table.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, really?” Leia exclaimed.  
Rey caught the roll neatly, ignoring her mother. “Actually, can I have two?”  
Ben quickly chucked another roll at his sister.

“Hey, excuse me,” Han cut in exasperatedly. “This is not a circus, this is a dinner table.”  
“My bad, Dad,” Ben apologized, faking sincerity. “Your shirt confused me,” he quipped, nodding at his dad’s red-and-white-striped button-up.  
Finn snorted. “Dude. Really?”

As Han threw a glare at his son, he realized that Ben had yet to touch his entrée: a Skywalker family classic known as Cheeseburger Pie (really, it was more akin to a casserole than a pie), consisting of hamburger meat mixed with eggs and onion, topped with a layer of cheese, and baked in the oven.

Han’s face grew stern. “Ben,” he said, tone firm, “eat your damn pie.”  
Ben glanced up at his dad with a solemn expression on his face. “I know what I have to do, but I don’t know if I have the strength to do it.”

Han was not amused. “Eat. Your pie.”  
“Oh, this is not pie,” Ben claimed, waving his fork at the food on his plate. “It’s a mangled cheeseburger with scrambled egg whites and onion. Like what the fuck.”  
“ _Just. Eat it._ ”

Ben poked at the mound of meat with his fork (like the four-year-old he was), then realized that Poe was staring at him. “What?”  
Poe gave him a casual look. “Are you naturally this much of a pain, or do you actually try?”

Finn choked on his water; Rey cackled; and Ben glared, narrowing his eyes at the curly-haired man. “Hey, excuse me — fuck you.”

***

After that, dinner went on without much spectacle. Ben did, in fact, eat his pie (much to his father’s grim satisfaction), and conversation from that point on was pleasant, thanks to one of Leia’s famous redirects (“So, Poe — Finn tells me you’re bilingual?”).

Once the dinner table had been cleared, Han disappeared to change his shirt (“It’s too damn hot in here,” he’d announced, and Poe had leaned over to whisper “Looks like you better leave” into Finn’s ear — it was cheesy, but his heart squirmed anyway). When he came back, he was wearing a dark blue t-shirt with MEH written across the chest in white letters.

Seated on one of the couches in the living room, Ben tilted his head to the side. “Meh,” he read, pronouncing the letters as a word rather than an acronym. “Dad, I didn’t know you were a closet millennial.”

Rey rolls her eyes. “It’s Mos Espa Hospital, you fool.”  
“You’re at MEH?” Poe asks, impressed (and spelling out the letters properly).  
“Almost fifteen years,” Han answers with a small, proud smile.

Poe grins. “Cool. What do you do?”  
“I’m a paramedic. Worked at Mos Eisley for a while, but it’s not exactly the most family-friendly neighborhood.”  
“Understatement of the century,” Finn cut in, sniggering.  
Beside him, Rey snorted.

“Are you gonna do that? Follow in dad’s footsteps?” Poe asks, turning to Finn and grinning.  
Ben guffaws. “Are you serious? _Finn?_ He can barely handle papercuts.”

Finn glares at his brother while Rey pats him on the leg. “Don’t worry, darling,” she says. “At least you have a brain.”  
Ben’s mouth twists angrily. “You know what, Rey—”

The two of them go at it for the millionth time that night, but Finn’s suddenly distracted by a soft press on his cheek. His head whips around just in time to see Poe pull back a little.

“What was that for?” he asks, face flaming.  
Poe’s eyes crinkle at the corners, full of mirth. “No reason.”  
Finn huffs out a slightly nervous laugh; Poe’s looking at him like he hung the damn moon, all soft and fond and hopelessly in love.

_Hold up. He’s…  
_ _He’s in love with me._

Finn’s heart slams against the inside of his ribcage. Granted, Poe hasn’t actually _said_ anything like that…but there’s a little piece of Finn that just _knows._ It’s in the way Poe’s looking at him now, but it’s also scattered in the little things from the past several weeks.

Hell, the man spent an entire evening on Finn’s couch, tracing features with fingertips as if Finn were the most fascinating thing in the galaxy.

_Holy shit. He’s in love with me._

It’s on a loop in his mind as he stares back at Poe — like a mantra pulsing through every fiber of him — and Finn doesn’t have a clue of what to do other than kiss him.

Hands cupping his jaw, pulling him in, quicklyquickly _pleasedon’tleave…_

_Don’t leave,_ Finn thinks desperately as Poe’s hand wraps around the back of his neck.

_Don’t leave.  
_ _Don’t leave._

***

Around 9:00, Rey pitches the idea of watching _Hamilton,_ and nobody says no.  
“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” Finn says, glancing at the time and squeezing Poe’s hand.

After his frenzy of a kiss, Finn had pulled back (amidst catcalls from his siblings) with a sheepish apology, feeling slightly embarrassed and like he had made a scene.  
Poe had simply smiled and placed a kiss on the tip of Finn’s nose. "Don't apologize," he'd said, grabing hold of his hand.

They hadn’t let go since.

“I don’t mind,” Poe says now, mouth tipped in a half smile. “Not like I got any place to be tomorrow.”  
“Oh, thank _Christ_ ,” Ben interjects, dropping his head back against the sofa cushion. “I was afraid we’d have to scrape mopey bits of Finn off the floor.”  
“Ha ha, very funny,” Finn remarks drily.

“Poe,” Han called out, making his way into the living room.  
“Yes, sir?”  
“Are you a whiskey man, by any chance?”  
Poe grins. “That I am,” he affirms, much to Finn’s dismay.

“Could I interest you in a glass or two?” Han asks, tipping his head in the direction of his study.  
“Absolutely.” He squeezes Finn’s hand one more time before getting up and following Han.

Once they’re out of earshot, Ben raises his eyebrows. “Hope you got enough kisses just now,” he says, glancing at Finn.  
“Why?”  
“Oh, c’mon. You know what happens to the poor suckers who walk into that study.”

“He’s got a point,” Rey says through a mouthful of popcorn as she rounds the sofa. “Remember Hux?”  
“That’s ‘cause Hux was an asshole,” Finn points out.  
“Hey — I’d thank you not to besmirch my ex,” Ben replies snootily.

His sister snorted as she plopped a giant bowl of cheese popcorn on the coffee table. “Please. We all know how _that_ relationship ended.”  
“He deserved it.” Ben popped a handful of kernels in his mouth. “Anyway, my point stands: abandon all hope ye who enter there.”

Finn smirks. “Look, just because _your_ dates were all idiots doesn’t mean mine is.”  
“Wait, hold on — since when have _I_ dated idiots?” Rey protests.  
“I was talking to Ben; you haven’t dated _anybody_.”  
“Yes, I have!”

Ben’s eyebrows shoot off his forehead. “Oh. Oh, this is good. Are you really referring to…?”  
Rey looks both offended and bewildered. “Yes, why wouldn’t I be?”

Finn leans over toward his brother. “Wait, who is she referring to?”  
He chortled. “I do believe she is referring to Rose Tico.”  
Finn roared with laughter. “Oh God, please no,” he gasped, clutching at his sides.

Rey glared. “I don’t know why this is so amusing to you.”  
Her older brother hooted. “Dude, you were in _middle school_.”  
“So?”  
“So it _doesn’t count_ , are you kidding me?” Finn cried.

Literally, cried — there were tears in his eyes, he was laughing so hard.

"And _then,_ lest we forget, she _kissed Finn_ right after you broke up!" Ben recounted.  
"Oh my God, that was so awkward," Finn added, trying to regain his composure.

“You guys are rude,” Rey sniffed, donning her I-don’t-have-time-for-peasants tone. “And my point still stands: she never set foot in that study.”

“Yeah, ‘cause it would’ve been illegal!” Finn crowed.  
“It would not have been _illegal._ ”  
“Okay, but it definitely would’ve been sketchy,” Ben amended.

A short laugh from the front of the house drew their attention as Han and Poe made their way back to the living room, each with a glass of whiskey in hand.

Finn scrunched his nose in disgust; Poe arched a brow in response. “You got a problem?”  
“Yeah, that,” he declared, nodding at the glass.  
“Why?”  
“It’s gross.”  
“It’s _manly_.”

Finn snorts. “Right, ‘cause you have a real problem with that,” he retorts sarcastically.  
Poe smirks. “You think it’s hot, admit it.”  
“I what now?”

The smirk morphed into a wolfish grin. “I bet if I do this” — he leaned against the bookshelf near his elbow, cocking a hip — “and take a sip like this” — lazily, eyes smoldering as he held the glass in a loose grip, swallowing slowly — “you’d look exactly the way you do right now.”

Finn didn’t have a mirror on hand, but his mouth was dry and his cheeks felt like a furnace…and he was definitely staring — Poe looked like old money and smokey jazz lounges and vintage masculinity.

Finn was only human.

“Hey, could you guys stop eye-fucking each other? Some of us wanna watch a movie,” Ben complained, breaking Finn out of his daze.

_A hole._ _A big black hole would be nice. Just a large, gaping hole to swallow me up._

“I, uh,” he started, shaking his head as he cleared his throat. “I need some air.”

***

Finn stepped outside for a quick breather.

Between his revelation from earlier and what had just transpired in the living room, he was feeling a little overwhelmed.

He leaned against the porch railing, slowly dragging in deep lungfuls of oxygen. It was cool out, now that the sun had set; the air was crisp and clean as it circulated throughout his body.

His head whipped around at the sound of the back door sliding open.  
It was Poe.

He paused in the half-open doorway, unsure of his welcome. “May I?” he asked, nodding at the space next to Finn.  
He nodded.

Poe stepped up to the railing and braced his forearms against the wood, a mirror image of the man next to him.  
“Too much?” he asked quietly.

Finn made a sound somewhere between a huff and a chuckle; he suddenly felt very self-conscious. “Not really. I mean it was kind of embarrassing, but not any worse than what my siblings do on a daily basis.”

He ducks his head with a sheepish smile. “And, I mean…you were right. It was pretty hot.”  
Poe’s laugh was gentle, kind. “Yeah, well — I hammed it up a little.”

Finn’s still embarrassed, but he also kind of wants a hug, so he takes a step closer and wraps his arms around Poe. His head tucks under his chin, nose pressed to the warm skin of his neck, and he sighs as the tension bleeds from his body.

Poe cups the back of his head with one hand and wraps his other arm around Finn’s waist. “You good?”  
He nods.  
“Fun fact: I’ve never seen _Hamilton._ ”

Finn’s head snaps up at that admission.  
That needed to be remedied — ASAP.

***

“Daveed Diggs is _so hot,_ ” Rey whines, slumping against the couch not long into the movie.  
“Ugh, tell me about it,” Finn responds. “The _hair_.”  
“And the beard.”  
“And the swag.”  
“Oh my God, _so_ much swag.”

“I don’t know, man. Lin-Manuel is pretty amazing,” Ben counters.  
“Uh-uh, no way,” Rey disagrees. “Diggs is hotter.”  
Poe hums. “Yeah, he’s alright.”  
“Just wait until the second act,” Finn smirks.  
Rey points a swift finger at him. “DON’T GET ME STARTED.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there ya have it!
> 
> I just wanted to point out again that FinnPoe still hasn't "done the deed" yet. I feel like we don't get enough representation of people who don't feel comfortable jumping into the sexual aspects of relationships right away, so that's what I'm doing for this one (I also won't be writing any smut scenes, sorry, but I _mayyyyy_ tease it later on — we'll see).
> 
> Soapbox moment: For anyone out there who's feeling the pressure to do certain things, you definitely DO NOT need to do anything you're not comfortable with. Do things when YOU'RE ready, your partner should be willing to respect that <3
> 
> Stay safe out there, lovelies!! Back soon!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe has plans for Finn's birthday — Big Plans. Secret Plans. Plans that Finn tries to uncover but unfortunately for him, Rey's got a pretty tight lid on it, so that doesn't work out.
> 
> (There also may or may not be a guitar. No promises.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovely readers, hope y'all are happy and healthy!
> 
> Where have I been, you ask? Moving back to college, that's where — we love an insane amount of homework in the first week.
> 
> Also, it has been a _struggle_ to remember to keep things consistent with the Covid reality! Like I’ll type something and Poe’s natural response will be to give Finn a flirty grin or something and then I’m like OH WAIT HE CAN’T cuz he has a MASK on… *facepalm*
> 
> Anyway, like I’ve mentioned before, I’ve decided to be loose with the requirements as far as private interactions with our boys/their fams go to make things a little easier and more fun, but for all of the public interactions I’m trying to be “up to code”.
> 
> *whisper shout* Masks are important, please wear one.

Upon walking into the living room, Rey snorted with laughter at the scene before her: there sat Finn, wrapped up in one blanket and half-buried beneath another, with at least two or three pillows surrounding him and a sleeping Calliope curled up in a fluffy orange ball on his lap. His laptop was balanced on his legs atop the ottoman, perfectly positioned so he could watch whatever YouTube videos had captured his attention that day.

If he weren’t human, Rey would have said he was nesting.

She raised her eyebrows in amusement. “Comfortable?”  
“Very,” he mumbled, eyes never straying from the screen.

She huffed out another laugh as she walked into the kitchen, half-listening to the video as it played in the background. “Click on the link, follow the instructions, do the things, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll be walking away with a brand-new, tasty, Peter McKinnon Nomadic Camera Bag, for all of your pho-toh and video needs.“

Rey shook her head fondly. _Must be watching that photography guy again,_ she thought to herself, pulling sandwich ingredients out of the fridge.  
It was slightly ironic; Finn had never owned a camera in his life, yet he was obsessed with this channel.

But whatever. If he liked it, more power to him.

The video droned on as Rey finished making her sandwich.  
“So, Finn…” she began, rummaging around in the fridge for a drink.  
“Yeah?”  
“What do you want for your birthday?”

His answer was immediate: “I want a catwalk with a cargo net and a secret entrance so I can have cool nerf battles like Peter McKinnon.”

Because hello, _what else_ would he want?

Rey chortled. “Right. I must admit that’s a bit outside my price range.”  
“Well, lucky for you, you’ve got two weeks to make it happen.”  
“My, how generous of you,” she quips, sarcasm dripping from every word.

“S’got nothing to do with generosity,” Finn replies lazily, slurring a bit. “S’just a fact: you got two weeks ‘til my birthday.”  
“Mm.” She cocks a hip, leans against the kitchen counter. “Have you told Poe?”

Peter McKinnon is wrapping up his video now, so Finn decides to shut down early. “Told him what?” he asks, closing the laptop and turning around to face her.  
She blinks at him. “You’re _birthday,_ " she says in a very _duh_ sort of way, as if Finn were some village idiot.  
“Oh…no, I have not.”

Case in point.

“And why not?” she questions, crossing her arms.  
“Uhm…I don’t know?”  
“Oh, for God’s sake,” she mutters, rolling her eyes. “Never send a man to do a woman’s job.”

With that, she whips out her phone and shoots off a text:

> **To BB My BB:**
> 
> We have a situation
> 
> **From BB My BB:**
> 
> Hit me
> 
> **To BB My BB:**
> 
> Finn’s birthday is two weeks from tomorrow and apparently he hasn’t told Poe
> 
> **From BB My BB:**
> 
> *facepalm*
> 
> I’m on it
> 
> **To BB My BB:**
> 
> Thank you my love <3
> 
> **From BB My BB:**
> 
> ;-*

***

_Two weeks later…_

“Can you please just tell me where we’re going?” Finn asked for the millionth time, bordering on a whine.  
“What part of ‘no’ do you not understand?”  
“Look, I won’t tell Poe you told me. I’ll just pretend to be surprised when we get there.”

Apparently, Poe had called Rey a few days before, detailing his Secret Plans for Finn’s birthday: she was to blindfold the birthday boy and drop him off at the Secret Location at ten p.m. (“Yes, I’m aware that’s late — what are you, his mother?”), where Poe would be waiting.

“And will he be home at the end of the night or will there be…overnight festivities?” she’d asked, towards the end of the conversation (not that she expected as much from Finn).  
Poe’s response had been a very smug “we’ll see.”

Rey snorted. “Finn, your acting skills are mediocre at best and egregious the rest of the time.”  
Despite being blindfolded, Finn swiveled towards her, channeling his glare through the epic scowl twisting his mouth. “Take it back.”

Rey tittered as she signaled left, smoothly guiding the car into the fast lane. “Or what?”  
“Or I’ll tell Ben where your Chupa Chup stash is.”  
“Go for it,” she said, unbothered by his threat to reveal the whereabouts of her favorite lollipops. “I can order whole _bags_ of them on Amazon.”  
“Whatever,” he grumped.

Fifteen minutes later, Rey hooked a sharp right and promptly pulled into a parking lot.  
“Can I take this off now?” Finn asked as he felt the car roll to a stop.  
“Not until we find Poe.”  
“For crying out loud, I’m _dying_ here.”  
“Oh my God, finally — no more Almond Joys spilling out of my cabinets.”

Rey guides him out of the car and up onto the sidewalk before Finn stops. "Wait, don't we need masks?"  
"Finn, it's 10:05," she replies, recalling the time from the clock on the dashboard. "There's nobody here. Also, we're outside."

They keep going; they've been walking for a few minutes when the ground suddenly turns soft and squishy beneath his feet.

_What the—_

Sand. It’s sand. He can tell because it’s starting to spill into his shoes.

Moments later, Rey pulls him to a sudden stop; as she starts untying the blindfold, Finn’s heart quickens. He feels Rey lift the fabric, and his eyes go wide as saucers because there’s Poe, sitting on a woven blanket on the beach, with a small cooler at one end and his guitar right next to it.

There’s also a small package, wrapped in muted blue paper and tied with twine.

“Have fun,” Rey says softly, right next to his ear; it’s genuine — not a hint of teasing, only fondness.  
His head swivels towards her, and he smiles. “Thanks. And thanks for driving me.”

She punches him lightly on the shoulder. “Of course. You owe me.”  
He laughs.  
“Right, now — off you go. If I have to watch Romeo stare at you for another second I think I’ll puke.”

 _Stare at me?_ Finn thinks, and he doesn’t even see her leave because suddenly he’s looking at Poe, and yeah — Poe’s staring at him.

With soft eyes and a soft smile and soft curls ruffling in the breeze as he sits cross-legged and barefoot in the soft sand and _oh my God—_

He’s terrified and euphoric all at once; it’s as if he was watching something caramelize, watching the sugar bubble just on the cusp of burning, yet not quite able to make himself turn down the flame.

“You gonna stare at me all night or you gonna pop a squat?” the man calls out, shaking Finn from his daze.  
He grins, walks the remaining distance and drops down onto the blanket next to Poe, shifting to get more comfortable.

Once he’s situated, Poe leans over and presses a kiss to his cheekbone. “Happy birthday, darlin’.”  
Finn lets a little laugh slip free. “Thank you.” He nods at the package between them. “That for me?”  
Poe grins. “You know it is.”

Finn picks up the package, studies its size, weighs it in his hand; it feels like a book.  
“You gonna open it sometime tonight?” Poe ribs.  
Finn’s eyebrows arch. “Ever heard of a little thing called _patience?_ ”  
Poe smirks. “Delayed gratification has never been my thing. Case in point—”

He kisses him then — the kind with just enough tongue to make parents skittish — his hand coming up to cradle his jaw, and finishes it off with a small peck. “Now open it.”  
Finn blinks rapidly a few times. “Um. Right.”

He picks up the package and unties it, then takes his time with the wrapping. He runs his fingers under the seams, carefully lifting the tape so it doesn’t rip the paper. It’s methodical — where most people would just tear into it, Finn’s more perfectionistic. 

Everything should look neat and orderly, even when disassembled.

Poe finds this amusing. “Are you always this careful when you unwrap your presents?”  
“I don’t like ruining things.”  
The man nods slowly. “Fair enough.” His tone is neutral, but there’s a distinct twinkle in his eyes.  
Finn prickles a bit. He suddenly feels defensive, and he’s not quite sure why.  
“There’s nothing wrong with being precise.”  
Poe’s face softens. “I didn’t say there was.”

Finn’s hands have stopped moving, his focus hijacked by the memory of a similar conversation — only instead of Poe’s good-natured teasing, he’d gotten one of Phasma’s barbs.  
She hadn’t said much — just a few pointed words — but there’d been an edge to it, a mockery in her tone.

And then the next thing he knew, she was making him feel special again — making him wonder if maybe he’d imagined all the other stuff, if maybe he was being dramatic or too sensitive.

“Hey,” Poe starts, breaking into his thoughts. “What’s wrong?”  
Finn chews on his lip angrily. “Phasma.”  
Poe’s jaw clenches, but his tone stays gentle. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to poke fun at you.”

“No, it’s okay,” Finn assures, shaking his head. “I just…” He paused. “No,” he says finally, meeting Poe’s gaze with a determined look in his eye. “We’re having a good time, _I’m_ having a good time, and—”

Poe launches himself into another kiss, his hands coming up to frame Finn’s face. Finn feels the calluses smoothing across his skin and the gentle scratch of Poe’s five o’clock shadow.  
He wants to soak it up like a sponge.

Once Finn is good and breathless, Poe pulls away. He hesitates, seems to be thinking something over as his gaze roams around Finn’s face — from the dip at the apex of his lip, to his umber eyes, down the smooth melanin of his jaw…

Back to his eyes. “Maybe it’s too soon. Maybe you’re not ready. Hell, maybe _I’m_ not ready, I don’t know. But I love you—”

_Stop. If you don’t mean it, then stop._

“—and I think not knowing anything else is okay.”  
A pause. “I also think that maybe that freaks you out. And that’s okay, too. I know you’ve been hurt, and there are pieces of you that need to heal—"  
“You love me?” Finn blurts. He's been too stunned to speak; his eyes are wide, and he feels so fucking vulnerable right now, like there isn’t a place in the entire world that could hide him.  
But Poe smiles. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

_Don’t let her keep you from something better — she doesn’t deserve that power._

Finn’s grin is slow, but blinding — a gradual radiation, beautiful and utterly happy.  
He laughs, a breathless little thing, and nods. “Okay.” He bumps their noses together, presses his forehead to Poe’s. “Okay.”

***

“You gonna serenade me now?” he asks a bit later. Poe’s present — a paperback of Spanish poems that Poe had annotated for him — is sitting between them, and Finn’s been absentmindedly thumbing at the pages for the past several minutes.

It is, perhaps, one of his favorite birthday presents ever.

Poe gives him a smug look. “If you ask nicely.”  
“It’s my birthday,” Finn says with a snort. “I don’t have to ask for anything.”  
Laughter spills from the older man’s mouth. “Alright, fair enough,” he concedes, reaching for the guitar case.

Finn stretches towards the cooler to grab a drink and halts at what he finds inside.  
Eggs.  
Lots of eggs.

He gives Poe (who is full-out snickering) a flat look. “You did not buy me eggs for my birthday.”  
The man grins. “Three whole cartons, just for you.”  
He rolls his eyes. “Unbelievable,” he mutters.

While Poe shakes his way through a laugh attack, Finn grabs his drink and turns to survey the scene before him: the waves crashing softly against the sand just a few yards away; the lights of the city glittering just off to Poe’s right.

It’s dark, obviously. There are no candles or lanterns or anything to give them light, but to be honest Finn’s kinda glad about that.  
He doesn’t like candles.  
He thinks they’re cheesy.

But this — this is perfect. It’s thoughtful, yet simple, and Finn likes simple.

“Oh, hey. I also have…these.”  
Poe pulls a paper bag out of his guitar case. “Didn’t want them to get cold, so I stuck ‘em in here.”  
Finn takes the bag and is immediately excited — he can already smell the cinnamon.  
  
He opens the bag and sure enough: cinnamon rolls. Huge, flaky, still-slightly-warm cinnamon rolls, complete with a dusting of powdered sugar.

He beams. “You’re the _best_ ,” he exclaims.  
A smirk. “Yeah. I know.”  
“I take it back, you’re the worst,” Finn responds, giving him a small shove.  
Poe laughs, carefree as always, and Finn can’t help it — he wants to kiss him again.

So he does, because since meeting Poe, every step outside his comfort zone has brought him closer to a version of himself that is free, and happy, and that doesn’t feel like a timid animal so easily startled...

And he loves that feeling.

It’s just a small kiss, a soft yet brief press of his mouth against Poe’s cheek, a gentle drag of his nose.  
But it’s something he never would’ve done with Phasma, and _that_ feels like a victory.

“Alright,” Poe says when Finn pulls away. His smile is warm, his voice equally so as he balances the guitar atop his thigh. “Any special requests, big guy?”  
“Just play,” he answers with a grin as he lies down on the blanket. “Just play.”

Poe smiles, and in the next second his fingers are dancing on the strings, flitting over the frets, light and quick as they move to one of the loveliest melodies Finn’s heard in a long time.  
It’s happy, carefree — Finn is beaming.

Poe plays some other instrumentals, and they’re just as impressive as the first one.  
 _BB was right. He’s too modest._

As he’s finishing the third song, Finn rolls onto his side and props himself up on an elbow. “Sing something in Spanish,” he requests.  
Poe seems surprised; his eyebrows scoot up a bit. “Really?”  
He nods. “Yeah. Sing…”

He trails off; he’s nervous his request will be too personal — too painful.  
But he asks anyway. “Sing something your mom used to sing.”

Poe looks stunned — but his eyes soften with a nostalgic sort of look, and he nods. “Yeah, alright,” he acquiesces, taking a deep breath.  
He begins strumming, chords forming a melody full of sorrow…  
And then he starts singing.

His voice is low at first, a barely-heard rumble that suddenly swells, dips, sways back and forth between timorous cry and fervent lament.  
He’s mesmerizing, tragically beautiful. Finn’s never actually _wanted_ to feel sad, of course not — but he’d do it a thousand times over if it meant hearing Poe sing like this.

Poe’s voice quivers — a final, held vibrato note — then slowly fades into silence.  
Finn's at a bit of a loss for words. “That was…I…”  
Poe smiles sadly. He shifts, sets the guitar down next to him, then pulls one knee up to his chest and props his forearm on it. “My mom used to sing us to sleep when we were kids — that was one of the songs she sang.” He chuckles. “Kind of depressing for a lullaby, I guess.”  
“Beautiful, though,” Finn insists.

Poe smiles again; it’s happier this time. “Yeah, it is. And Mom — damn, she could sing. She was amazing.”  
“Did she perform?” Finn inquired as he sat up.  
“She did! She used to sing at the bar just down the street from our house.”  
A pause, then: “Sorry if I put a damper on the mood.”

Finn nudges his knee. “You don't need to apologize for that.”  
“I know, but it’s your birthday — should’ve chosen a happier song.”  
“Technically my birthday was yesterday,” Finn corrects with a small grin.  
Poe laughs and shakes his head.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, watch the waves roll and beat against the shore.  
Eventually, Poe speaks up. “Whenever you’re ready to go home, just let me know.”  
Finn bites his lip; he’s not sure he’ll ever be ready to go home. “Yeah. Okay.”

Poe’s gaze is calculating now — he’s thinking again. “Or…if you want…you can come home with me.”  
Finn feels his pulse quicken. “Yeah?”  
The grin spreading across Poe’s face is slow; his eyes spark with something Finn can’t quite discern. “Yeah.”

Finn’s mind races. He _wants_ to go home with Poe. He _wants_ to move forward in their relationship…

He wants more. More and more and more and it’s never gonna happen if he stays rooted in the past.  
So, he smiles (albeit a bit nervously) and nods. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ho boy, SLEEPOVER TIME!!! *waggles eyebrows*
> 
> It is my intention to be back soon with Part 2 of the birthday date, but we'll see how it goes...yay, homework.
> 
> BUT before I go, more links!!
> 
> Here are two of the songs that Poe plays (the ones that Finn described, in order of appearance):
> 
>   * [_Apricot Eyes_](https://open.spotify.com/track/2LIF1QSHTGrdIGNqSgHCpe) by Alan Gogoll
>   * [_La Llorona_](https://open.spotify.com/track/2TEK053VG4TNxYkIWL3NfW?si=epC57occSLCo1GpeqqMs_w) by Carmen Goett
> 

> 
> And here's the photography channel Finn was watching, in case anyone's interested: [ Peter McKinnon](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC3DkFux8Iv-aYnTRWzwaiBA)


End file.
